A Bad Way to Die
by Darknesse Sidhe
Summary: Upon learning that she is a demigod and arriving at camp, thirteen-year-old Canna is given a seemingly simple quest by the sorceress Circe - eat a chocolate bar by the end of the week. There is, however, a catch ...
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

THE FIRST CHAPTER:

It's not every day you get attacked by a witch, but I suppose it happens sometimes. I mean come on, this is life we're talking about here. If strange things didn't happen everyday, then life wouldn't have a very interesting plotline, would it?

Although on reflection, getting attacked by a witch wouldn't make the top ten things on my summer to-do-list. But I could be wrong.

The day had started out perfectly. How could it not have? It was the last, blessed day of school. I would beyond happy that I wouldn't have to go through another day of that dull, boring, flavourless torment for two whole months.

I went through the usual last-day-of-school routine: I said goodbye to my friends, told them to keep in touch, went to the considerably bland last-day-of-school dance, turned my nose up at math problems and clauses in language, and went out for milkshakes with my best friend Stella to celebrate the soon-to-be lack of school.

I kept to the shadows as I walked home alone from school. Although it was only late June, it was freaking boiling outside. Oh how I longed for the air conditioned apartment my dad and I shared a whole three blocks away! Usually I would get a drive but today my accountant dad was working overtime, and usually I would walk with Stella but her older brother had picked her up early from school so their family could go to their cottage by a beach along the coast of Lake Erie. It's a considerable travelling distance from New Jersey to Lake Erie, so I understood why they would depart early.

Distracted by wonders of what Lake Erie might look like, I didn't see the tarantula until I almost stepped on it.

I jumped back and let out a high-pitched scream that was embarrassingly girly. While people on the street stopped and stared, the tarantula turned towards me and wiggled two hair legs at me, as if saying hello.

Oh _god_, I hate spiders. I've always hated them and the sight of their beady, lidless, all-black, different-sized eyes, and their long spindly legs scuttling across a surface. Backing away so fast I almost fall over, I didn't realize there was someone behind me until I crashed into her.

"Oh dear!" said a woman's surprised voice, and a hand reached out to grab onto my shoulder, steadying me. "Are you alright?"

Flinching away, I looked up to see a beautiful, glamorous woman in her twenties. She had black hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing an expensive-looking cream-colored business suit with matching high heels. She gave me a slightly cold smile.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Spider!" I pointed a finger accusingly at the hairy tarantula without looking at it, knowing that if I do so and stare for too long, my arachnophobia will surmount to total panic and terror. I know it's unreasonable, but I simply cannot even _stand_ the sight of spiders.

The woman followed my finger with her eyes, which lit up as soon as they landed on the spider. "Oh! My tarantula."

I stared at her in disbelief. It hadn't exactly occurred me that such a rich-looking woman like this might keep _spiders_ for pets. "What? _Your_ tarantula?"

"Yes!" To my utter shock, she walked forward towards it and picked it up in both hands, turning to me with another bright but somewhat icy smile. "I'm a professional studying spiders in their habitats. A colleague brought in a whole hoard of varying spiders about a week ago, and I've been studying them since." She grinned down at the big hairy thing in her hands, and it irked me a little, the fact that her personality warmed more towards a frightening arthropod rather than a fellow human. "This one escaped from his cage early this morning, and I can't imagine how I could've got here."

My personal thoughts did not dwell on how the spider had gotten here, but rather on the fact that I strongly believed that this woman needed to keep better inventory of her charges. I mean really. Who knows how much damage it could've caused?

"My name's Cirsa," the woman said to me. "What's yours?"

"I'm Canna," I replied, eyeing the spider in her hands warily. It waved its forelegs at me, and I flinched, resisting the urge to shriek again.

As she stroked the hairy back of the tarantula cradled in her hands, Cirsa stared directly into my eyes with such a distasteful intensity that for a moment, I was almost more scared of her than I was of the spider.

Then, to my surprise and horror, the spider's fangs twitched and a sound that could almost be described as _clicking_ came from it, as if it was snapping nonexistent teeth together inside its strangely shaped mouth.

"Oh, is that so?" murmured Cirsa as if speaking back to it, without taking her cold eyes off me. "Then I will take care of the problem immediately."

To my further surprise, she actually bent down and set the tarantula back on the ground. It made a few more clicking sounds, and a few seconds later it had disappeared into a nearby alley.

"Um," I said, more than a tinge nervously. "Why are you letting it go?"

Cirsa smiled at me one more time, but it was the kind of smile that implied that the giver really, really didn't like the person receiving it. Which was crazy. After all, I didn't even know Cirsa. Other than not liking spiders while she obviously adored them, I didn't see why she might hate me.

I took a half-step back just as Cirsa spoke.

"You think you could hide from us, didn't you?" she said suddenly in a low, hissing voice, her sharp blue eyes seeming to pierce right through me. "Well, you thought wrong … but what else would one expect from a half-mortal, especially one as pitiful as you who screams weakly at the sight of a mere bug … usually I don't get rid of girls, but I'll make an exception this time … especially since you're clearly _her_ daughter, despite the weakness and utter stupidity and the hair color. One might think that being _her_ daughter would save you, but not only have you appeared to have _not_ inherited her brains and her wits, you were doomed from the start … and besides, whereas once being her daughter might've save you, this time it's going to kill you …."

That woman was nuts.

Slowly and carefully backing away with enough caution to imply that the woman that stood in front of me, glaring at me with all of the world's hatred, was a rabid animal, my eyes flickered back and forth as my brain took in my surroundings in case I had to run, while wondering what Cirsa was raving about and why she suddenly looked so ready to murder me and throw my bones into a ditch after she'd devoured my flesh.

To keep her distracted while I tried to think of something to do that would put me a particularly far and safe distance away from Cirsa, I said in my politest tone, "You don't look very well, Cirsa. Would you like me to take you to the hospital or a doctor somewhere …?"

Apparently she took this as in insult, because immediately her eyes flashed, she snarled like a feral animal, and lunged for me. Surprised, I didn't jerk away in time, and her nails raked down my left arm, drawing blood and leaving long, harsh red marks along my skin, leaving me to wonder: What the hell are her nails made of?

A sudden effort to stifle my surprised and pained shriek ended in failure. Across the street I heard someone shout, "Look over there! That woman's trying to kill that girl!"

I glanced at Cirsa as I skipped away down the street, half-heartedly hoping that the prospect of an audience to witness her attacks would deter her, and knowing even before I saw the still-murderous look on her face that she wouldn't care either way. I didn't know why she wouldn't care, but I had a feeling that whatever the reason it was, it wouldn't be so great for me.

She ran at me again, surprisingly agile in her high-heeled shoes which I was sure were killing her, but before she could gouge out my eyeballs or grab my neck, I dropped by backpack on the ground and punched her in the face with my right hand with as much strength as I could muster. I managed to muster a lot. Fear can do that to a person.

There was something satisfying in the feel of the cartilage and bone in her face give away in her nose. This time, Cirsa was the one who shrieked in pain and surprise. She reels back, clutching her nose, and lets out a scream, "You broke my nose, you foul, godforsaken Harpy! You're almost as bad as your awful sister!"

I ran up and delivered a high, hard roundhouse kick to her stomach that unbalanced her and sent her sprawling back, landing hard on her butt. No surprise there, since I was a brown belt in karate and she was wearing high heels. "Sorry," I said, "I'm an only child."

She glared me and I realized that despite her unusually long, painted and somewhat painful when-in-contact-with-skin nails, that she wasn't a very good fighter. Whatever she was, she definitely didn't have a brown belt in karate.

But the small hope that came with the realization was quickly crushed when Cirsa stood up, kicked off her heels, and literally produced a knife out of thin air. It was like she simply raised her hand to the air and pulled a long, shiny dagger out of it.

"She's going to kill her!" someone screamed down the street, doubtlessly referring to Cirsa and I. (After all, there weren't any other homicidal situations on the block at that time.) "Someone call the police!"

Cirsa sneered and I heard her mutter almost indistinctly under her breath, "Pitiful mortals; as if _they_ can stop me."

I blinked.

Whatever Cirsa was – scientist studying spiders, business woman, just some chick with an inferiority complex, whatever – she was clearly insane.

She turned to me and I hated the confident, sadistic look that entered her eyes just then. With one last smile, she said, "Do you know what this knife can do, Canna? Enchanted by the goddess Hecate herself and now in my possession, it has the ability to cut through any shield, material, magic … it will cut you too. I will use it to slice you in half and then I will feed your pitifully skinny corpse to the Sirens."

"Magic?" I said blankly as she advances on me; in return, I quickly begin to back away. Although I highly doubted her obviously exaggerated story on her knife, I was not, at all, a stupid person. Even if her dagger didn't slice me to complete ribbons, it would still cut me.

I was still going to die.

Cirsa seemed to realize that even if she walked towards me, I would still walk away. She immediately stopped walking and raised the knife – and I realized she was going to throw it at me; have it sink into my chest and slice through my warm, beating heart.

It suddenly seemed as if my heart was pumping ice through my veins a smy insides clenched with fear.

"See that?" she laughed as she tensed to throw and I, still backing away, fearfully wondered how I could possibly get out of _this_ situation. "See that, Moira? I'm going to kill this girl, and leave your irritating prophecy unfulfilled …." How do you dodge a blade hurtling towards you at lightning speed? Cirsa also seemed confident in her aim and ability to murder me; and it dawned on me that I still didn't know _why_ she was trying to kill me. Something to do with my mother? But heck, I didn't even _have_ a mother, not really. As far as I could tell from her constant absence and Dad's unwillingness to talk about it, she'd abandoned us when I was born. I'd ever only interacted with her directly once, and that was when she visited me on my thirteenth birthday about two months ago for about five seconds, leaving me with a card and twenty bucks as a present and no explanation before she walked out the door and disappeared into the night. I'd hardly been able to believe that that stranger was my mother.

I didn't like her much, although I admit that we did look alike.

And now, because of her for whatever reason, Cirsa was going to kill me.

It made me rue the day I ever had a mom.

It made me rue the fact that these were the most awful last thoughts I could've ever dreamed of.

But my laments were interrupted when a surprised noise comes from Cirsa and she stopped in the middle of throwing the blade at me. We stared at each other in shock for a moment – and then we lowered our eyes slightly and gazed upon the end gleaming bronze knife slick with some strange gold liquid and protruding from her chest.

And a second later, Cirsa completely vanished into thin air without a trace; only two cream-colored high heels that lay desolately on the sidewalk, and the knife that had been in her hand that fell to clatter onto the cement, gave any hint that she'd ever been there at all.

My left arm started to sting painfully and I grasped it, wincing as I remembered how Cirsa had raked down on it with her nails.

But I didn't avert my eyes as they, fixed on the point of the knife, followed it to find an arm belonging to a body belonging to a serious-looking boy with slightly messy black hair, who couldn't have been that much older than me. Behind him stood another boy, this one around fifteen, with curly blond hair and grey eyes, and kind of looked like me; my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail was black, but our moody grey eyes were identical. Both boys were wearing orange t-shirts with the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD in capitals stitched into them, but even the bright orange color didn't make my situation any more cheerful. Besides, who were these people? And what had they done to Cirsa?

The black-haired boy holding the knife sheathed it at a matching bronze sheath that hung at his side. "Mist the mortals, Malcolm," he said, "and do something about the police the old lady bought."

The blond boy nodded and snapped glanced around. After a brief moment, he snapped his fingers. The surrounding people, who'd been either gawking at me or muttering to themselves incoherently, immediately stopped whatever they were doing, stood up straight, and stared forward with blank eyes.

"Excuse me, humans," the blond boy called out. "You will resume your day normally. You did not see a woman in a business suit try to kill this girl here. In fact, none of you see me, this boy beside me, or this girl standing on the sidewalk holding her arm. In a few minutes, the police will arrive and ask about an attempted murder that happened on this street. You have no idea what they are talking about."

He paused and then turned to the black-haired boy. "Done."

And immediately, the people down the street turned and started walking and chatting with each other, resuming their life as if nothing had ever happened.

"This is stupid," I mumbled to myself. I tried to ignore the pain of the long claw marks Cirsa had made on my left arm; the cuts were bleeding slightly, and as I felt the skin around them swell, they became hotter and even more uncomfortable to have. And it _was_ stupid. A scene right out of Men in Black. Forget Cirsa and her freaky tarantula, _everyone_ new I was happening to meet today was totally nuts.

The black-haired boy gave me a sharp look. Then he sighed and took a few steps towards me until he was standing right in front of me. I tensed and looked at him warily.

"I'm sorry about that," he said, but he sounded more annoyed by me than sorry. "That must've been traumatizing for you …." Oh really? He extended his hand. "I'm Ryan, [1.] son of Nemesis, from Camp Half-Blood, and this is Malcolm, son of Athena. You must be the demigod Athena told us to find."

Athena? Like the Greek Goddess of Wisdom and Battle? And wasn't Nemesis the Greek Goddess of revenge? That's strange. Ryan and Malcolm – that was their names, right? - don't even have a Greek accent. And what's up with their shirts.

But whatever.

I slapped his hand away with the hand on my good arm, turned, and trudged over to my backpack. My left arm was really stinging now. I grabbed the straps of my backpack and started walking down the sidewalk. I didn't even want to know what they'd done to Cirsa or to the witnesses anymore. I just wanted to go home, do something about the cuts on my arm, take a shower, read a calming book on algebra while sipping tea, and go to sleep.

"Where's she going?" I heard Malcolm ask Ryan, a frown in his voice.

"Where are you going?" yelled Ryan, even though I was still only a few feet away from him. When I didn't immediately reply, he said in a quieter voice, presumably to Malcolm, "Are you _sure_ she's one of you guys? Usually a geeky Athena girl would start demanding 'answers or else!', or otherwise begin to solve difficult math problems aloud as a method to calm their nerves."

I didn't know why, but Ryan's nonchalant remark made me so angry that for a moment, I felt like stealing his knife and using it to stab him repeatedly. Instead, I turned around and gave them my most angry, evil, hard, unrelenting, venomous glare. The shock is apparent on their faces.

"DIE." I turned away again and march quickly down the street with a frustrated huff.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," I heard Malcolm say just before I round the corner.

**I think that the first chapter went by a little too fast but oh well.**

**I don't think I have to tell you what cabin Canna will belong to. And I think it's a bit obvious who Cirsa is too. But you can figure out her emotional issue and the tarantula thing yourself, haha ….**

**FYI, Canna is thirteen, Ryan is fourteen, and Malcolm is around fifteen.**

**I'm used to writing in present-tense narrative, so as I was typing this I kept on veering off past-tense narrative and going onto present-tense. I think I corrected all the mistakes I made on that, but if you see that and any other flaws, I would appreciate it if you let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. All rights belong to Rick Riordan excluding any events, characters, places, and et cetera that I have happened to create myself. However, they are virtually useless outside the Percy Jackson universe, so ….**

THE SECOND CHAPTER:

Although I knew it was a sign that the flammable liquid was taking effect, I couldn't help but wince and suck in a sharp breath at the stinging pain that came with applying alcohol on a cut. Quickly throwing the Q-tip into the trash and putting the bottle back in the high kitchen cupboard where I knew my cat – a calico male I seriously named Easily Annoyed, Annoyo for short – wouldn't be able to get at it. The last thing I wanted was Annoyo guzzling down alcohol and waking up in kitty heaven. Although I imagined he might like dancing amongst the clouds and rainbows chasing butterflies and eating all the treats he could want, I wasn't ready to part with him just yet. Even if his love of scratching furniture, and furniture only, had ensured him the title of a nuisance to the point where he even refused to use the perfectly usable scratch post Dad had gone out of the way to buy him. No … I still loved him … I wasn't mad about Annoyo's constant hissing or the fact that he once ripped a precious essay I'd worked hours upon a day before I was going to hand it in … or the fact that he once went on a rampage the second day he first got him and destroyed a considerable amount of plates, attacked the interior of the fridge and in less words just cost us about 90 dollars worth of damage … and clawed down my curtains right after … and he hadn't gotten any better since … no I wasn't mad at him for all the torment he'd given me the past 6 years since I'd gotten him on my seventh birthday. In fact, I couldn't imagine life without Annoyo.

But damn that stupid cat.

_Ding-dong_.

I jumped, dropping the roll of bandages on the ground and cursing as I hit my hand hard off the kitchen counter.

Who could it possibly be at the door to my apartment? Not Cirsa, I hope.

As I manoeuvred myself out of the kitchen and towards the door, my eyes fixed on the doorknob, my mind kept on telling me it couldn't be, but my rapidly beating heart wasn't listening. Although creepy homicidal Cirsa was obviously dead – after all, hadn't I seen that irritating Ryan guy stab her right through the heart? – something just didn't seem right about it, especially the part where her body disappeared before my eyes, and most of all … the tarantula. I shuddered to myself. I. Hate. Spiders.

I reached the door, unlocked it, and in one swift motion, opened it, preparing for the worst ….

Okay, it wasn't Cirsa, but still. It was the next worst thing.

Ryan – with Malcolm standing behind him – raised his hands as if in a what-are-you-going-to-do gesture, and opened his mouth to speak. However, having imagined the worst case (and second-worst-case) scenario while trudging the rest of the way home from school, I'd already planned this moment out and I beat him to the talking.

"Just wait here one minute and I'll be right back," I said, and quickly slammed and locked the door again before either of them could react. I turned and quickly hurried for the kitchen again, yanking open the fridge, leaning down, and scanning it for anything I could possibly … use. My eyes lit up when I saw a half-full bottle of red cherry juice – Dad's favourite kind – and I grabbed it, closing the refrigerator door and opening it as I made my way back to the door again.

I unlocked it, yanked it open again, and outstretched my right arm, impulsively dumping red cherry juice all over Ryan. Although technically I didn't have a reason to do what I did, he had annoyed me from the moment I'd laid eyes on him, and besides. The shocked and angry look on his face was immensely amusing.

… I was a bit petty, wasn't I?

"Okay, you can come in now," I said once the bottle was empty and Ryan was dripping red cherry juice onto the welcome mat. "And if you don't explain everything, there will be watermelons, rubber bands, flamethrowers, Photoshop, and blackmail. Okay?" I said in a falsely sweet tone.

His face dark with rage, Ryan stepped inside, but not before flashing me such a murderous look with his pitch-black eyes that I was actually afraid for moment. Malcolm, a look of surprise and mild fear on his face, followed after and whispered to me warningly, "You shouldn't have done that. He's the son of Nemesis – the Greek goddess of revenge. You, little sister, are going to die. And I mean that in an inoffensive way."

I sighed, and despite not wanting to sound bratty, I said, "And who are you to tell me what to do?" Because really, although Malcolm had a point, – nonsense about Greek goddesses of revenge aside – I wasn't exactly the kind of girl to just take advice from a stranger. "Besides," I added as I turned away, "thanks for the offer, but I'm an only child."

I couldn't help but catch Malcolm's mumble under his breath, "Forget Athena, this girl could be a child of Nemesis too …."

We made our way to the kitchen and Malcolm and I sat down opposite each other on the round table in the middle. I set my empty bottle on the table and tried not to look too vindictive or proud of it. Grumbling harshly under his breath to himself, – probably picking some choice insults for me – Ryan made his way over to the fridge and yanked it open with as much force as I'd yanked open the door for them. "Is there anything to eat around here?" he demanded, peering into it.

"It's not polite to go to someone else's house and go through their food," said Malcolm in a faintly scolding tone.

"Shut up."

"So please," I said, interrupting their brief conversation, "enlighten me. What happened back there? Do you happen to know why that tarantula woman was trying to kill me? Who are you people, anyways? And what was that thing you did to the witnesses?" My eyes narrowed while Malcolm gazed back calmly with his alarmingly familiar grey eyes, the ones that matched mine perfectly. "You know, where you made them forget everything? Or do you just have extraordinarily good persuasive powers? Or is this all some sort of act you're filming to make me look like an idiot in front of the whole world?"

"I wish." Guess who said that?

"Be nice, Ryan," chastised Malcolm.

"Shut up."

"This isn't an act, and we're not trying to embarrass you," said Malcolm gently. "You see, you're not normal. That is," he said quickly upon seeing the slightly irritated look on my face, "you're not like normal humans. You're – um, how do I put this tactfully – you're a demigod."

Blink. Blink blink. "What?"

"A demigod," said Ryan, closing the fridge and holding an unopened can of Sprite in his right hand. Sprite that _I_ bought with my own money. He was still dripping from the cherry juice and little droplets of pale red liquid were appearing on the surface of the pale tiled kitchen floor. "You're half-human, half-god. Just like us."

"Half … god?"

"Yeah," said Malcolm, giving me a pitying look like he senses my disbelief, like he's _not_ mentally insane and I am. "One of your parents is a god. In this case, a goddess, from what Athena said."

"And what did your precious Athena say?" I asked, though not unkindly, staring at him hard and trying to figure him out.

Malcolm sighed and leaned back in his chair, making the limbs of it creak slightly. "Well she said your name is Kenny or something and you're her daughter – so that makes you my little half-sister." He suddenly grinned at me. "And don't you dare say you're an only child. If Annabeth heard you, she'd kill you. Figuratively, of course."

Annabeth? Who were these people? And how come … _they were so annoying_?

And my name was Canna. Not Kenny. I mean really, if Malcolm was my older brother he might've at least tried to get my name right.

I wanted to write this off as a dream, but the still slightly stinging pink lines on my skin along my left arm told me otherwise. A fact that did not improve my mood at all.

And if I started denying it and started screaming, "You people are CRAZY!" which doubtlessly other have done from the expectant look on Malcolm's face, they'd just give me pitying looks – I hate receiving pity _almost_ as much as I hate spiders – and wait for me to cool down before going about to try to prove me wrong, because they clearly believed every word they were uttering and were just calmly waiting me to accept it as well.

I glanced at Malcolm's t-shirt, which, I'd mentioned before, was orange and had the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD sewn into it in capital letters.

"And Half-Blood?" I said tiredly, distractedly remembering the shower I wanted to take and the feel of a soothing algebra book in my hands. To be honest, I just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. "What's that? Some kind of cult?"

Malcolm gave me a Look and then did a combo of face-palming and sighing into his hands. Ryan said in a sneering voice, "A half-blood is another name for a demigod, O Smart One. So consider yourself part of our little 'cult' as well." Then, as I turned to glare at him, he opened the can of Sprite with an _fshhh_ sound and helped himself, mostly, it appeared, so he would have a reason not to talk to me.

I really did not like Ryan.

"And a demigod?" I challenged, although half-heartedly. "How can you prove that I'm a demigod?"

Setting the Sprite onto the kitchen counter he was leaning against, Ryan gave me a scornful look. "Hmm, I don't know," he said in a very sarcastic voice. "But I certainly do _not_ know that your dyslexic but abnormally clever and geeky despite of it, you're diagnosed with ADHD, you've only ever lived with one parent in your life, you were literally born from the brains of your parents, your mother is a goddess, and that monsters and gods are out to get you and you seriously have vindictiveness issues. And that, hear ye, is coming from a son of _Nemesis_." He took another long drink from the can of pop and when he finished, wiped his mouth with his hand.

"Stalker," I mumbled, referring only to the parts I understood. The rest, well, I didn't have a clue about. I was literally born from the brains of my parents? That made no sense.

"As if I'd stalk _you_," said Ryan in a voice that implied I wasn't even worth stalking.

"Actually, there are reasonable explanations for everything Ryan mentioned," said Malcolm in an attempt at a placating tone. "Most demigods have dyslexia because their brains are programmed to read Ancient Greek, not English or whatever. And since we're constantly under attack by monsters and evil spirits and stuff, we eventually developed ADHD so we're restless and our brains and bodies are ready for battle. We know you're probably smart because we have a good idea who your godly parent might be, and we know you only live with one of them because demigods are almost always raised by their mortal parent. As for the vindictiveness issues …" Malcolm shrugged helplessly. "So far you've proved that you _are_ a little impulsive when it comes to being friendly. You know, just a little bit …."

"I don't think I'm a demigod," I said, ignoring the last bit about impulsiveness. "I've met my mom, and hell she ain't no goddess."

"'Ain't' isn't a word, Brain Child," said Ryan.

I turned and stared back unfazed saying, "And since when was a personality as dark, angry, and annoying as yours legal?"

"Woman, how long have you been missing out on the world?"

We both jumped when Malcolm banged his fist on the table, shaking it. I bumped the side of my arm against the table and let out a little gasp as I remembered the incident with Cirsa. It still hurt, god damn it.

"Look," he said exasperatedly; I guess he'd gotten tired of the carrot approach [1.]. "I understand that you two don't like each other end-of-story, even if it for no apparent reason, but could both of you just please shut up and let me finish explaining to Kenny what's going on?"

"My name is Canna, not Kenny."

Malcolm didn't look like he cared much either way. "Whatever. May I continue?"

Ryan and I flashed each other dark looks, but nodded at him.

"_Thank_ you. Anyways," he said, turning towards me, "I know you probably don't believe us, but it's true. You're the daughter of a Greek goddess and one of us – you have to come with us to Camp Half-Blood, where it's safe."

My eyes narrowed. "I already told you, I've met my mom and for one, she is _not_ a goddess. Second: excuse me if I'm _not_ going to believe every little word you say and just trustingly walk out of the door with you people; after all, you can't prove anything you said was true, and what if you're secretly kidnappers trying to kill me, hmm? You even have weapons," I said, waving my hand at Ryan's knife and Malcolm's sword. "So you might stop and think for a moment, and give this amazing kidnapping plan of yours a little more thought."

Ryan sighed, rolled his eyes, and said to Malcolm, mostly, "It's always difficult with you stubborn Athena kids, no matter what it is we're trying to accomplish – allying, trading, studying together, collecting other demigods … you people are infuriating."

"Says the one who fed chicken liver and birds' guts to the gods the first time he ever made a sacrificial offering to the gods. I swear I never saw the Twelve Olympians so mad."

The Twelve Olympians? As in, the ruling twelve of the major Greek gods and goddesses from Greek Mythology?

"Shut up. Besides, I had good reason to do what I did," said Ryan with a shade of hate in his voice.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. And to think, the day had started off so well …. "Look, my dad'll be home soon, and if you really want me to go to this Camp thing, you can talk to him about it, okay?" I was about to say more about how Dad would probably not believe the Greek Mythology excuse, but I stopped in surprise and looked down at my arm. It had suddenly gone very cold, as if I'd plunged it into ice water, and a second later very hot, as if my skin was heating up.

Ryan hesitated, but Malcolm nodded as if this was okay. "Sure. Maybe he'll be a little more reasonable than you are," he said.

"Malcolm …" said Ryan warningly. Malcolm smiled at him.

"Hey, chill. It'll be fine, and he'll probably know what he got into with Athena anyways. It's hard not to notice when you touch minds with a powerful Greek goddess and create a Brain Child with your, well, brains."

I was barely listening to what they were saying anymore. A throbbing had started in my arm underneath where my cuts were, and although dull at first, was throbbing faster and more painfully with each beat of my heart. A sudden jolt of searing pain and clouds of grey dots that gathered at the edges of my vision made me stand up so suddenly, my chair fell over backwards onto the kitchen floor with a loud clatter.

Both boys looked at me in surprise.

"What's wrong?" asked Malcolm, his brow creasing in mild concern.

"My … my arm – "

With that, darkness like a wave washed over my senses and, from afar as if I had been detached from my body, I felt gravity catch me and I slid soundlessly to the ground.

**[1.] The carrot approach is when someone tries to keep the peace and kindness and maybe gain trust and friendship by doing something in favour of both parties that both will like and support. Like, giving an annoyingly stubborn donkey a carrot as a reward for any efforts instead of beating it with a stick if it doesn't obey. (That's called the stick approach. Weird names, I know.) In this case, Malcolm was trying to be nice to both Ryan and Canna so maybe they'd feel a little bad for him and stop fighting, but apparently not.**

**In the next chapter, I will post Canna's profile and I will introduce Canna's dad.**

**If you have any questions about the characters or the plot or whatever, let me know.**

**And please, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**You would know if I owned Percy Jackson and the Olympians. So ask yourself this: Does Darknesse Sidhe, a slight teenaged girl who has a _FanFiction_ account (note the emphasis on FanFiction), or Rick Riordan, a middle-aged guy with his name printed at the bottom of every Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Heroes of Olympus book, own Percy Jackson and the Olympians?**

**The answer is obvious.**

**I own it.**

**Haha NO. Rick Riordan owns it.**

… **For now.**

*** Note that Canna was originally supposed to be a Gemini due to her birthday originally being during late May, but I realized that Aries suits her better and changed up her birthday. In the first chapter, you will notice that the quote, "I'd ever only interacted with her directly once, and that was when she visited me on my thirteenth birthday last month" has been changed to, "I'd only ever interacted with her directly once, and that was when she visited me on my thirteenth birthday about two months ago".**

_Character Profile No. 1: Canna Reynolds_

_Age: 13 (as of current)_

_Species: demigod_

_ Godly Parent: Athena_

_Star Sign: Aries*_

_Appearance: black hair, grey eyes, skinny_

_Personality: short-tempered, suspicious, loyal, strong-willed, impulsive_

_Likes: the color red, cats, running, reading_

_Dislikes: brats, lemons, spiders, and being bossed around_

_Catchphrase: "DIE."_

THE THIRD CHAPTER:

"… When do you think she'll wake up?" said a voice, sounding distant at first but then coming closer and clearer. It was a familiar voice, and with a jolt, I realized it was Dad.

"Don't worry, Mr Reynolds. I'm no child of Apollo, but Mom makes all her kids do a course in medics. She'll wake up soon." The next voice was optimistic and familiar, but I couldn't place it ….

_Mrow_.

Annoyo? Is that you?

"I hope so," said Dad's voice in a slightly warning tone that implied that the owner of the other voice should hope so to.

"Ah – well …."

"Oh look!" Dad cut off. "She's stirring."

_Meow_?

I groaned and tossed my head to one side. With some effort, I groggily opened my eyes to look at Dad, with Annoyo blinking owlishly at me from his lap, and a teenaged blond boy with grey eyes that stood next to him. With a jolt, I remembered that his name was Malcolm – and the day's events came rushing back to him.

"Wha – where am I?" I asked, forcing myself to lift my head from the small cushions supporting it. I was lying down on the lime-green couch in our living room, and I was feeling slightly dizzy. My left arm felt so heavy … I looked down and was surprised to see it wrapped in pale green bandages the color of fresh tea leaves, covering the shallow wounds inflicted from Cirsa's nails. But at least it didn't sting or hurt anymore.

"Don't try to move too much," said Dad in a worried tone, leaning forward slightly. He was sitting at the end of the couch, and he was still wearing his work glasses and his business suit – my father worked as an accountant in New York. "Just relax, okay?"

"What's going on?" I looked around and frowned. "What happened?"

"You passed out," said Malcolm, "from the scratch marks down your arm. You fell pretty hard, so ou might've gotten a concussion if Ryan hadn't caught you at the last second, although personally, I think he might've been happier to see you fall. I remember, when Ryan and I were going to get you, one of the first things I saw when we had almost reached you was Circe clawing down on your arm."

I passed out from a few simple scratches? How lame. Was I really that weak?

But I didn't think so. The wounds had felt really strange … cold and then hot and then painful. So the nails must've had –

"Poison," said Malcolm, finishing my thought. "The nails were coated with Hydra poison. Thankfully the poison didn't get very far into your bloodstream and it didn't seem very strong, so whatever Hydra Circe must've gotten it from, it was probably very young and weak, and we managed to get the poison out of you, but I would keep those bandages for a while."

"Hydra? As in the nine-headed serpent from the legends. And why do you keep calling Cirsa that name?"

Malcolm blinked. "What's name?"

"Circe. A sorceress from Greek Mythology. Unless …." – I contemplated this new idea with mounting horror – "Cirsa really is Circe?"

"The woman who tried to kill you?" said Malcolm. "Yeah."

"But I don't understand," interrupted Dad, his brown eyes narrowing as he turned to Malcolm for answers. "Why would Circe try to kill my daughter?"

I'd been wondering about that since it had happened. Why had Cirsa – or rather, Circe – tried to kill me? What had I ever done to her? I tried to recall what she'd said after she'd brought out that knife. Something about Moira, a prophecy, and my mother.

My annoying mother, who was apparently a goddess –

Wait.

Did Dad …?

"Dad," I said with a frown.

He glanced sideways at me as he strokes Annoyo's back. "Yes, Cannie?"

"Don't call me Cannie. Do you know what these people are telling me? They're saying that _Mom_ a goddess and that I'm a demigod. Do you really believe this?"

Malcolm politely stepped back to tactfully let us have a little space to ourselves.

Dad bit down on his bottom lip, a habit of his that popped up whenever he was thinking. "Well … I can tell from your face that I know you don't, at least not completely," he said slowly, "but … I'm sorry Cannie, but I've been expecting this for a long time."

My heart sank. Although I knew that Cirsa's – I mean, Circe's – attack had been very real, and that maybe I should consider the possibility of my being a demigod, there was a little part of me that still longed to be normal. Okay, a big part of me. All I wanted was to be a regular teenager, talking with my friends on the phone and dazedly going through school (which was beyond boring as, despite my dyslexia, was way too easy for me). Was that so much to ask?

Which reminded me. I told my best friend Stella I'd email her the moment I got home.

I glanced at the clock. It read 7:00 PM, and outside the sunlight was beginning to die. I didn't know how long Stella's plane was going to take to get to Lake Erie, but I hoped it wouldn't be for a while. She was going to be so disappointed –

Gah. Stupid ADHD, getting me distracted again.

"So … if you saw this coming," I said tentatively, "then … you knew that um, Mom was a goddess?"

It's difficult calling my mother, Mom. I'd never really thought of her as my mom, not even when we met for the first time two months ago. I mean come on, it was difficult to when the first and last words she'd ever said to me was, "Happy Birthday, Canna. You're thirteen now so I'll be getting someone to fetch you soon. I get a feeling that you hate me, but don't forget your mother, alright?"

And then, with a knowing smile, she'd promptly walked out the door, closing it behind her. I'd lunged for it a second later and yanked it open, prepared to yell at her some choice insults, but she'd vanished as if into thin air while Dad face-palmed in the kitchen behind me.

… And I'd just gotten distracted again.

"Yes," said Dad, nodding, and some part of me flinches. "To be honest, when she'd first told me she was the goddess Athena, I hadn't really believed her. And then when she proved to me by turning into an owl into a pigeon into a human again, I still couldn't believe it." Dad had this faraway look in his eyes, and I instantly hated it. I hated Mom, be she a goddess or not, for making him so happy and then just leaving him. "She was amazing, Cannie … and to be honest she looks a lot like you."

Looks _a lot like you_. Present tense, not past tense, like she was still part of his life somehow. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Athena? The Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy? (I _did_ read about Ancient cultures, you know.) Maybe it would've sounded like a cool kind of mother to have … and she _must_ be smart, because she was right about the part about me hating her.

Then I remembered something I'd noticed but hadn't cared much about.

"Hey," I said suddenly, mostly to change to subject than anything else, "where's Ryan?"

"I let him use our shower when I came back, about an hour ago," said Dad in a slightly confused and curious tone. "For some reason, he was dripping my favourite kind of cherry juice everywhere, and I found my cherry juice bottle on the kitchen table, empty. Maybe Annoyo dumped it on him or something."

On reflection, I did hear the faint noise of the shower coming from down the hall.

Malcolm coughed to hide a sudden laugh, and Annoyo, standing up from Dad's lap with a _mrow_, flashed me an accusing look with his bright yellow eyes, as if knowing that it's my fault Ryan ended up wet and cherry-colored.

I heard the shower stop, and a few seconds later there was a loud _bang_ as a door was opened a bit violently from within. We turned to see Ryan standing in the hall wearing a black shirt and black jeans in replacement of the orange T-shirt and jeans I'd sullied with the cherry juice. He turned to give me his characteristic glare as if to say, _this is your fault_, his black hair wet.

Then he turned to Dad, and gave a polite smile straight from a gentleman.

"Hello, Mr Reynolds," Ryan said in a strangely calm and collected voice, his posture deceptively relaxed and composed. "Thank you for letting me use your shower, and I am sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused."

"Inconvenience? Oh no, it's fine, Mr Sanders," said Dad in a cheery voice. Obviously he liked Ryan – and if Ryan continued to put up his well-mannered façade, Dad would have no idea.

That was an annoying thing about Dad. Sure, we loved each other very much, but he was very willing to accept everyone and anyone, even if they didn't like me and I didn't like them. Especially so. Dad always said to people meeting him for the first time, "Don't mind my daughter, she's just difficult."

Shocked, I turned to Malcolm looking for an explanation. But my apparent older half-brother just shrugged helplessly with his hands, as if to say, 'What do you want me to do about it?'

Ryan glanced at me again before turning to Malcolm. "Malcolm, your little sister Sleeping Beauty's awake. Can we go now, before Circe comes back and tries to kill our charge again?"

Charge? "I have a name, you know." Circe? "Wait – I thought you killed Circe!"

Ryan threw me a slightly contemptuous look. "Yeah sure, I sent her to Tartarus for the time being, but she's an immortal, not a monster, so it's not as if she needs time to regenerate before clawing her way back up to the surface – our world. So can we go, before we're attacked? Even if Circe never came back, it's still dangerous – three demigods in one room. Do you know how many monster we're going to attract – no, that we're attracting _already_? They're probably all swarming down to this little apartment in hoards. So you better get going, little owl girl, before we're dead and your father too."

"My dad?" I stood up as Annoyo padded towards me and rubbed against my feet. "I don't understand – do we automatically attract monsters or something? And if it's so dangerous, how come you took such a long shower, hmm?"

Ryan glared at me. "Well, I wouldn't have had to take such a long shower if you hadn't dumped cherry juice all over me."

"Ah," said Dad in a deceptively calm voice; but there was a catch in his tone. I winced slightly. "So that's what happened to my favourite cherry juice."

"Where are we even going?" I grabbed a random book bag off the couch and started looking around for anything I might want to bring. I selected a water bottle and a hairband in case the one I had broke and I needed to keep my hair back, but I didn't see, other than a few knives in the kitchen, I could use for a weapon.

"We're taking you to Camp Half-Blood," replied Ryan, already going to the door.

"You mean … that cult thing?"

"You Athena kids always make things more difficult than they could be," Ryan grumbled, unlocking the door.

"I am not involved in this," Malcolm declared, following.

"You're going already?" said Dad in surprise. He looked a little hurt.

"Sorry Dad, but I don't want you to get eaten by a monster." I gave him a brief hug and then joined the boys at the door.

"When will I see you again?" Dad called, standing up as Annoyo meowed.

"Don't worry, Mr Reynolds, we'll take care of her," Ryan promised.

Somehow, his promise made me feel a little _less_ secure than I'd been before. I didn't trust, or even like, Ryan, and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. So sue me.

Dad hesitated, but we were already out the door and into the fresh evening air.

"Let's go," Ryan began – and then stopped.

"What is it?" said Malcolm, his brow creasing in concern.

"Hmm …." And with that, Ryan produced a can of Sprite I swear hadn't been there before, and dumped its fizzling contents on me.

For a moment, I just stood there in shock while the cold, bubbly liquid dripped through my hair and into my eyes and down my neck, making me shiver, my mouth forming an O in surprise.

Malcolm recovered from his surprise faster than I did, and quickly grabbed my left arm, lifting it so the Sprite wouldn't drip onto the pale green bandages. "Ryan, you idiot! Do you know how much sodium is in that thing? Do you want these leaf-based bandages to come off?"

"Haha, I'm sure you two will find a way to deal with it," snickered Ryan, flashing me a smirk – the first smile I'd ever seen from him, and just as annoying as the rest of him. "Anyways, let's go. We don't have time to deal with this."

"We wouldn't have to deal with this at all if you hadn't dumped Sprite on Canna in the first place," fumed Malcolm, muttering under his breath about the delicacy of the bandages. Apparently they were very expensive and hard to come by, but were best for dressing poisoned wounds like mine. "And I don't have a towel."

"Well," said Ryan, already walking away. "That is what she gets for messing with a son of Nemesis."

I

Am going to kill him someday.

**Have you noticed that Ryan has not yet called Canna, not even once, by her first name?**

**LOL's, their hateful relationship is so funny.**

**But don't worry, Ryan's one of the good guys. He's just … not eager to express any warm and kind and fuzzy emotions.**

**I'll be posting Canna's dad's profile with the beginning of the next chapter.**

**Anyone ever see, Clash of the Titans?**

**Ah yes, and sorry to disappoint but the three demigods will get to Camp Half-Blood without much incident.**

**If you smiled when Ryan dumped Sprite on Canna, put "Nemesis" separately in your review.**

**If you want Canna to eventually get back at him, put "Revenge" separately in your review.**

**Review? Please?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**This was originally supposed to be set in between the Last Olympian and the Lost Hero, but by the second chapter I realized that it wouldn't be possible, as technically this would be set during the Battle of the Labyrinth. I still want this to be in between TLO and TLH, though, so this story now officially has a floating timeline.**

**I know, I know. I should've thought this out more before.**

**P.S. I'm also adding a catchphrase to the end of each profile starting with this one, and I'll go back and add it onto Canna's profile too.**

**Below is the fourth chapter and Canna's dad's profile.**

_Character Profile No. 2: Mathew Reynolds_

_Age: 37 (as of current)_

_Species: human/mortal_

_Star Sign: Libra_

_Appearance: dirty-blond hair, brown eyes_

_Personality: calm, kind, accepting, practical, easily impressed_

_Likes: the color blue, cherry juice, reading, advising others_

_Dislikes: braggarts, disorder, monkeys, broken glass_

_Catchphrase: "Do not touch my cherry soda."_

THE FOURTH CHAPTER:

We took a taxi all through the night, and we didn't run into any monsters. Speechless with anger at Ryan's little stunt, I didn't say a word all night until we finally reached Camp Half-Blood. Although to be honest, I knew I couldn't really do anything about it. Ryan had had a reason, and I hadn't when I'd dumped Dad's cherry juice on him, so it would be hypocritical of me to get him back.

So I wouldn't.

… For now.

…

At dawn, I stared at the scene before me in surprise. I was standing at the top of a hill, a good distance away from a huge pine tree with a golden ram-skin hanging from it, guarded by a big shiny dragon I'd decided I'd stay away from. I stared forward, looking across fields of strawberries and little cabins in the distance, with great forests embedded all over. Pegasi flew in the sky with riders on their backs like a scene from a fairy-tale. The contented cries and calls of people there – demigods, apparently – floated towards me on the wind, and I couldn't help thinking, _How the heck had no human discovered this place yet_?

So I said, "How the heck had no human discovered this place yet?"

"It's protected by the Mist," said Malcolm, standing on my left. (All night I'd kept Ryan on my right, so that in case I'd have to punch him, I would be able to use my good arm rather than my bandaged one.) "The Mist is generated when gods and monsters interact with mortals – it shields the mortals from the supernatural and disguises it, so they continue to live their lives thinking everything is normal, blah-blah-blah, until a lovesick god comes along and ruins the whole thing for them. Come on, we'll take you to see Charon, the camp manager guy or whatever his official title is, and if he's in a good mood and will see you, the camp direction, Mr. D. Afterwards, you can watch the instructional video informing you on Camp Half-Blood."

"Rated PG 13," said Ryan, speaking for the first time since he'd dumped pop on me. I jumped. I'd almost forgotten what his voice had sounded like, he'd been so quiet.

"Come on, let's take you to the Hermes Cabin and then the Athena Cabin," said Malcolm, walking down the hill.

I blinked in surprise as Ryan and I went after him. "The Hermes Cabin? Why do I have to go there?"

"Even though we're all pretty sure – especially your Dad – that you're the daughter of Athena, Athena hasn't claimed you as her child yet, so until she does we kind of have to put you in with Hermes," explained Malcolm. "But don't worry, you'll be able to move to the Athena Cabin soon – you're thirteen, after all."

"What's so special about being thirteen, and how does my godly parent claim me, exactly?" I asked as us three walked past the strawberry field. My eyes widened when I saw a curly-haired boy with a slight goatee standing in the middle of the strawberry field, playing what looked like a panpipe in a somewhat off-tune melody. The most remarkable thing was about him was probably the fact that from waist-down, he was a … a … a … a goat. A very furry-legged goat with cloven hooves standing in the middle of the strawberry fields, playing a panpipe. A satyr?

"Hi Grover," said Malcolm and Ryan.

The satyr paused and looked up with mournful brown eyes. "Hi Malcolm, hi – wait, who are you again?" he asked, looking at Ryan.

Ryan didn't say anything and his expression didn't change much, but I could tell he was annoyed at not being recognized.

"And who's the new girl?" said the satyr, looking at me curiously. I stared back with equal, if not more, fascination. A half-goat boy? Did he like strawberries much?

"She's a Harpy," said Ryan. "And I'm serious – she really is a Harpy. You can smell her awful stench a mile away. Charon asked us to find and employ her, and we're taking her to meet and get chummy with the ones working in the kitchens – "

My heel slammed down hard on his left foot. "DIE."

"GAH!" Ryan jumped back and fell over clutching his foot.

Malcolm sighed and face-palmed as if to say, 'Here we go again.'

"Ah," said the satyr, nodding sagely. "An Athena child. She looks a bit like Annabeth … but did she dye her hair that color? Did she not like being blond?"

My eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "My hair is naturally black. Why? Are all the Athena kids blond?"

"Not _all_ of them," said Malcolm. "Just most of them. Some weird genetic heritage passed down from our mom, even though she has black hair. Some of us get it from our dads, though."

"Yes," said Ryan, managing to stand up. "They're all a bunch of dumb bl – "

"DIE," Malcolm and I shouted, and simultaneously kicked him over.

Ryan mumbled something into the grass about the brutality Capture the Flag and how the temper of the Athena kids almost as bad as the Ares kids. He also said something about monkeys.

"What was that?" said Malcolm calmly, leaning over Ryan.

Ryan glared out at him, but didn't say anything.

"Hmm," said the satyr thoughtfully. "I guess Athena and Nemesis won't be teamed up together in the next Capture the Flag game after all … Annabeth's not going to be happy about that."

"Annabeth will be fine with it when she hears Ryan's dumb blond joke," Malcolm retorted, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, probably. Hey, does anyone have a can I can eat?"

_Eat_?

"I have a can," said Ryan quietly as he slowly got to his feet.

The satyr's eyes lit up. "Can I have it?"

"No." He brushed off his black shirt and turned to glare at Malcolm and I. We smiled innocently back. "Let's go take her to Chiron."

Huh. Maybe Malcolm really was related to me.

"Awwww," went the satyr. We ignored him and started walking away.

"Who's Annabeth?" I asked. I'd heard her name a few times, and whoever she was, she sounded important.

"She's the Athena Cabin's counsellor, and our older sister," said Malcolm. "I would take you to meet her, but even though we suspect you're Athena's daughter, you're not allowed to stay in our cabin until you're claimed."

"Claimed? What's that?"

"… It's hard to explain. Pretty much a holographic sign appears over your head in the shape of your godly parents' symbol. It marks you as their child."

It made me wonder what my Dad's symbol would be if he were my _godly_ parent. Probably a pair of glasses. Or a calculator. Or a bottle of cherry soda.

It also made me wonder what Athena, my apparent but yet-to-be confirmed mother, used as her symbol. An owl? The decapitated head of the Gorgon Medusa? A journal filled with all her dark and dirty secrets? _Dear diary, today I ditched my accountant lover and my unusually dark-haired baby daughter to fend for themselves. I don't think I'll be seeing them for a long time, but whatever; I have more of my geeky children to mess round with. And it's not like they'll miss me. Daughter can grow up without their mothers. I certainly did_[1.].

"So how long will getting claimed take?" I asked.

Malcolm shrugged. "Who knows? It's for the gods to decide. But our Camp's champion, Percy Jackson, made the gods swear by the River Styx to claim their children all by the age of thirteen last summer at the end of the Second Titan War, and Athena said you'd be thirteen, so it should happen to you soon."

I paused. Second Titan War? Then I decided not to ask, so as to keep my little air of safe assurance about me. An important psychological action, especially since my "air of safe feeling" had pretty much gone down to zero since I'd been attacked by Cirsa/Circe.

To be honest, I didn't really want to be claimed by Athena. Studying Greek Mythology in class and reading about it over the Internet or in books, I'd liked her, and it would suck if it turned out that she was actually my neglecting mother.

"So where am I going to stay until then?" I hope there was a place newbies could go, and that no one expected me to sleep outdoors. I hated mosquitoes and there would probably be _spiders_ too. I shuddered, remembering the shiny-eyed hairy tarantula in Cirsa's hands, clicking noises coming out of its crude mouth as Cirsa stroked its hairy exoskeleton.

Ryan glanced sideways at me as if surprised by my sudden unease, but said nothing.

"In the Hermes Cabin," said Malcolm easily, not suspecting a thing. "At least, that's what we've always done in the past. Later I'll get one of the Stolls to take you there or something, if you're not claimed by tonight."

"Stole?"

"The Stoll brother are the cabin counsellors of the Hermes Cabin. Do not let them around fire, explosives, rubber childrens' objects, or spray of any kind. That kind of stuff is worth fortunes to them in their pranks, and if you aid them, even unintentionally, their victims are going to get you."

"Um … I'll keep that in mind." I had a silver match in my right pocket I'd gotten for my thirteenth birthday from my dad, but I didn't have any explosives or matches or varying spray on me.

We soon arrived at a big but not particularly large, clean building, which Ryan introduced as "the Big House". "This is where we hold meets and conferences," said Ryan. "Since you're a newbie, I don't expect you to take part in any of them. Which if probably for the better; after all, you'd just screw everything up."

I glared at him. "Who asked you?"

"No one." He smiled like a shark. "But it's a free country, right? I can state my opinion, whatever it may be. So stop giving me that look and let's go. Let's not keep Chiron waiting."

We walked up the steps to the long porch, where two men were seated on either side of a round table playing cards. One of them had warm brown eyes and a brown beard, and was seated in a wheelchair with a long dark red blanket covering his legs. The other was kind of plump and pudgy, and had curly black hair an dark violet-ish eyes that did not _exactly_ radiant warmth and kindness. The pudgy one grunted in acknowledgement as we neared.

"Hello, Mr D. and Chiron," said Ryan in his politest voice. I jumped in surprise. It was an even more respectful one than the one he'd used on my dad. "What game are you two playing this time?"

"Oh, we're taking a break and just messing around a bit," said the man in the wheelchair, shuffling the scarlet-backed deck. He glanced up and his eyes found me before returning to the cards. "I assume, from the presence of this girl, that the mission Athena gave you went successfully?"

"Yeah," said Malcolm. "This is Canna Reynolds. We did have a little trouble with Circe, though …"

Malcolm proceeded to tell the man – who introduced himself as Chiron – about how he and Ryan had made it in time to see me fighting Circe, and how Ryan had stabbed her in the back with his knife, sending her (temporarily) to Tartarus. They then took a pit stop at my house (Malcolm tactfully omitted the part where Ryan and I took turns dumping pop over each other), and then made their way here after discussing it with my dad.

All the while I thought, Chiron, Chiron … why does this name sound so familiar? I know it's something from Greek Mythology, but I just can't place what it is ….

When Malcolm finished speaking, Chiron's eyes flickered to me. "Canna, do you know why Circe targeted you?"

I shook my head. "No, but she said something about my mother, a prophecy, and the Moira, whatever that is."

"When I killed Circe, I found her with this knife, sir." Ryan took a long and sharp-looking dagger from his belt that I hadn't noticed before, but when he set it on the table by the red-backed cards, I recognized it with a sting of fear and apprehension. It was the knife Circe had been going to use to kill me, the one she said could cut through anything. It really would've killed me had not Ryan and Malcolm showed up.

Chiron drew in a sharp breath. "Ah, this blade … clearly a powerful one. Circe must've really wanted to kill you, Canna." He gave me a serious look as if he expected me to know why Cirsa/Circe had tried to murder me.

"Yes … and I think I know why," said Malcolm slowly and thoughtfully. We turned to him. "Well, remember a bunch of years ago when Annabeth went on that quest with Percy and Tyson and Clarisse to the Sea of Monsters? She told me about it and she met Circe there … and she pretty much ended up trashing the island by releasing some son-of-Ares pirates that Circe was holding as guinea pigs. Maybe Circe was mad about that."

"Cirsa – I mean, Circe – had a spider with her, you know," I said quietly.

Malcolm paused and fell silent, looking uncomfortable. Clearly he didn't like spiders any more than I did. Ryan rolled his eyes as if seeing Athena kids squirm at spiders was not new to him. "Did she?"

"Yeah. It was a big hairy tarantula. That's how I met her; I saw it crawling down the sidewalk and I … I bumped into her. She picked up the tarantula and said she was a scientist studying them in her habitat, but that one had gotten away. But then after a little while she put the spider back down and then she attacked me. Is that normal?"

Even the pudgy black-haired one was staring now. Chiron slowly shook his head. "No … not really."

"And – and the tarantula made _clicking_ noises, as if it was talking to her."

Malcolm looked seriously unnerved now. "Chiron, you know that the children of Athena have long been enemies of spiders, since the day Athena turned Arachne into the first. Could Circe's possible hatred of Annabeth and _our_ united hatred of spiders have something to do with this?"

Ryan said nothing, but he clearly thought that we were making this more dramatic than he thought it should be. I was sure that if the adults weren't here, he would've said something about how impossible Athena kids were, especially dealing with spiders.

… Okay, maybe I couldn't contradict him there.

Chiron sighed. "It seems we have a bit to discuss with Athena. I will go inside and summon her. Malcolm, you come with me. Ryan, you take this dagger, go to the Hephaestus cabin, and get a sheath forged for it; once that is completed move it to the Weaponry. Will you join us, Dr D.?" he asked, turning to the pudgy man.

The pudgy man spoke for the first time, in a considerably grouchy voice. "No. I have no business with any of this _or_ with Athena. I don't even see why everyone's making such a fuss when it's just another brat come to Camp. I'll stay out here and maybe get one of the stayrs to fetch me a glass of wine."

Chiron smiled wryly. "You mean a can of diet coke."

"Yes, that's what I meant."

I decided I didn't like Dr D., but I didn't get much chance to think about my new decision because that's when Chiron stood up.

Well, he didn't stand, really. The blanket just kind of fell away as he raised himself up, and the next thing I knew there was a half-human, half-horse standing in front of the wheel chair.

"Well, I'd better get going," said Chiron, cheerfully oblivious. He turned and clip-clopped away towards the door, ducking to get under. Malcolm followed him obediently, not looking the least bit shocked at the existence of a centaur. Mr D. looked as if he were steadfastly ignoring the rest of us as he took the cards and continued Chiron's shuffling.

Ryan picked up the knife from the round table, belted it, and then gave me a drily polite smile. "Well, goodbye then, Canna."

I realized it was the first time he'd called me by my name but the way he said it made me feel as if he were making fun of me.

My grey eyes narrowed as I looked at him. "Goodbye."

It was only when he was gone did I realize I had nothing to do, and nowhere to go.

**[1.] Athena's mother Metis is currently a fly living in her father Zeus's head.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while everyone. Briefly had writer's block, and was working on other stories ...**

_Character Profile No 3: Ryan Sanders_

_Age: 14 (as of current)_

_Species: demigod_

_Godly Parent: Nemesis_

_Star Sign: Scorpio_

_Appearance: black hair, black eyes_

_Personality: casual, charismatic, vengeful, irritating, smug_

_Likes: getting the better of others, exacting revenge, swimming, Sprite_

_Dislikes: weakness, over-cheerfulness, coke, bright light_

_Catchphrase: "Shut up."_

THE FIFTH CHAPTER:

For a moment I considered asking Mr D. for directions, but when I turned to him he turned away slightly as if reading my mind. He obviously wanted nothing to do with me. Wonderful. So he was a kind and cheerful person, just like Ryan.

After a moment, I decided to explore the Camp and maybe take a look around. After all, if this really was the one safe haven for demigods like Malcolm and Ryan said (and apparently I was a demigod), then I might as well take a look around and explore the terrain more. Maybe I'd find someone who'd be able to help me get in contact with Stella. It was dawn at the moment, at I was supposed to have emailed her _yesterday_, right when I got home from school.

And maybe … I could find someone who could tell me a bit more about Athena?

I looked back to the closed entrance to the Big House. Apparently it was sound proof because I couldn't hear anything that was going on. Chiron and Malcolm were contacting Athena in there right now. But I didn't think it would be a smart move to just barge in there searching for the goddess demanding to know whether or not she really was my mom.

With a sigh, I stepped off the porch and started walking away from the Big House, sticking to the path that wound through the grass. I hoped that I would know where to go if I ever met a fork in the path. I didn't know the terrain here well, having just arrived, and I didn't know how long I was supposed to stay. On reflection, it was probably a safer idea to stay at the porch of the Big House with Mr D., but I wouldn't get anywhere that way. I hope I wouldn't get lost.

A shadow passed over me. I looked up to see two pegasi, one black and one grey, fly over me. Their feathers shone silver and purple in the bright morning sun and their hooves beat at the air as if they were running. A wave of awe washed over me as I gazed up. I'd seen them from a distance coming into the camp, but up-close like this … I could hardly believe they were real.

The pegasi circled the air twice, before touching down and landing about fifteen feet away from me, in between me and the Big House. I turned to face the flying horses and their riders, not blinking in case this illusion vanished before my eyes. Close-up, I realized that other than the wings, the pegasi looked exactly like regular horses; and yet somehow, a regular horse could not wear the wings of a pegasi without looking awkward.

The pegasi and thus the riders were facing me as well. The riders got off – two sixteen-year-olds, a black-haired boy and a pretty girl with curly blond hair done up in a ponytail swinging past her shoulders. The boy glanced at me but seemed to be paying more attention to his charge – the black winged horse – than me. The girl, on the other hand, turned and smiled at me.

"You look like you've never seen a Pegasus before," said the girl, not unkindly like Ryan would've said it.

"I haven't," I stated bluntly, but it was hard to pay attention to her when two mythical creatures straight from the movies were standing right in front of me.

"You new here, then?" said the girl. I tore my gaze away from her grey horse, who had turned away to chew on the grass growing beside the path, to look at her.

Like Malcolm and Ryan (before I'd dumped cherry juice on him and he'd had to change), both the girl and the boy were wearing orange t-shirts with the words 'Camp Half-Blood' on them. And, like Malcolm and Ryan, the girl was armed, this time with a knife. (All the boy had was a cheap-looking ballpoint pen attached to his pocket.)

"Yeah, I'm new," I confessed. "I just got here at dawn maybe twenty minutes ago. Are they – are they real?"

"You mean the pegasi?" The girl smiled. "Yes, they're real. Would you like my friend to ask them if you'd like to pet them?"

The black one snorted and pawed at the ground restlessly with its hooves. The action made me pause. Those legs looked strong enough to kick me halfway to Minnesota.

But then I said, "Yes please." After all, it's not every day you get to pet a mythical creature. Even if they did kick me, it would be worth it. Maybe. For obvious reasons I wouldn't come near it if it dared aim for my head ….

The girl turned to the boy, who looked up as if sensing her gaze. "Percy, would you …?"

Percy … that name seemed to ring familiarity, but I couldn't quite place it.

The boy shrugged. He turned to the black Pegasus and seemed to – I can't describe it – speak to it, only without opening his mouth. Like they were establishing a connection or something. After a moment he turned to the grey Pegasus and did the same.

Noticing my confused expression, the girl said to me in an explanatory but teasing tone, "Percy is a horse whisperer."

Percy paused and looked up at the girl, his green eyes narrowing. "No. Just … no."

The girl laughed shamelessly, Percy cracked a smile even though he looked a bit annoyed, and it was pretty clear to me that the two were close.

"Blackjack says okay even though he doesn't like being referred to as not real, and he doesn't like the term 'pet' because it makes him feel like a small animal humans keep in their homes," Percy said in a matter-of-fact tone. His – or rather, his horse's – words reminded me of my cat, Annoyo. "Puttanesca says she's going back to the stables now anyways." A second later, the grey mare opened her wings, leapt forward as if she planned on trampling me, beat her wings, and launched herself into the air. In a few more seconds, she was gone.

I blinked and couldn't resist adding, "So … you really are a horse whisperer?"

Percy opened his mouth, and then shut it again. His expression said something along the lines of, I can't believe you actually had the nerve to say that, and I'm kind of shocked and angry at the same time, but once I'd lost grip on my annoyance I might forgive you anyways because that's just the kind of person I am – don't count on it though. The girl grinned hugely, as if she could barely contain her laughter.

I walked forward slowly towards the black Pegasus called Blackjack, keeping eye contact and remaining outwardly calm and steady but inwardly nervous. Sure I'd loved the pegasi on sight, but it was still nevertheless hard not to think of those huge, strong hooves that could pound me into dirt at any time.

"Hold out your hand and let him know you're a friend," advised Percy. Then he paused. "Of course, I could just tell him you mean no harm … but it would be better this way."

Meanwhile, Blackjack had drawn himself up proudly, gazing down at me with a look that was pitying, gentle, and arrogant all at the same time. Clearly he thought a considerable bit of himself. The corner of my lips twitched as I stretched out my hand and he carefully lowered his head to rest just above it. He definitely reminded me of Annoyo, for whatever reason.

For a few moments, his hot breath rushed across my palm. Then Blackjack turned away, kind of nodded to Percy – if horses could nod – and then simply trotted away, not up to the path were Mr D. was eyeing us distrustfully at the porch of the Big House, but across the grass, heading for the woods.

"Okay, but be careful and be back to the stables soon!" yelled Percy after him.

Blackjack shook his mane as if saying something.

"That's good, but for the last time stop calling me boss!"

The girl turned to me. "My name is Annabeth, and this is Percy. What's your name?"

"My name's Canna. I've heard of you! Malcolm talked about you."

Annabeth's eyes lit up, and for the first time I noticed their color; a dark and roiling grey, like the sky before a storm. But despite the cloudy color, her eyes seemed clear and bright – they were eyes identical to Malcolm's. And mine. "Malcolm? You met my brother?"

"Look at her eyes, Annabeth," said Percy. "She's obviously one of you guys."

"I see them, Seaweed Brain. Then you're the new camper Malcolm and Ryan were sent to retrieve?"

I nodded, a bit speechless at the very sudden event of realizing that this girl was Annabeth, and that if I really was a daughter of Athena, my older sister.

Annabeth smiled at me again, and I found myself liking her. "Would you like a tour of the camp?"

"Sure."

"Annabeth!" exclaimed Percy, his sea-coloured eyes widening. "We have to tell Mr. D. and Chiron what we think about the new great prophecy."

"Apollo said the prophecy probably won't come to be in a long time," said Annabeth dismissively. "And besides, you can go. I have something to do when Canna and I reach the cabins, anyways." A glint of angry malice entered her stormy eyes. "The Stolls will pay for the spider prank they played on the Athena Cabin."

For a brief second, she reminded me of Ryan. The thought was so sudden and surprising that I couldn't help but grin.

…

Annabeth's tour of the camp was unfortunately cut short when she introduced me to the Aphrodite cabin. The moment she said the words, "new camper", the Aphrodite demigods cut off her words with squeal and more or less dragged me into the Abyss that was their cabin, saying something horrifying about having a new victim's looks to play with or something.

I got the feeling that they were talking about me, but they ended up dragging Annabeth in too, despite her best efforts to fend them off with her knife.

I had once read a book, and in it there was this vampire who was staying at a boarding school, and she had decorated her side of her and her roommate's room pink to the point where her roommate had noted it looked as if it had been decorated by the unholy lovechild of Barbie and Strawberry Shortcake [1.].

That's what it felt like being dragged into the most horrifying yet effective beauty salon in America.

A few hours later, Annabeth and I stumbled out looking like supermodels. It was gross and disgusting and we immediately ran for the lake, where we blindly threw ourselves in in an effort to wash off all the glamour and sparkle.

When we swam back ashore, ignoring the WTH stares of our fellow campers, we more or less collapsed on the grass, panting and sucking in wonderfully perfume-free hair.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but when we saw an Aphrodite girl walking in our general direction in the distance, we were forced to dive back in the lake again in order to hide from her.

By the time she was gone and we were on the shore again, I felt half-dead. I couldn't say the same for Annabeth, but she _looked_ half-dead.

And by the time we could find the energy to walk again, the entire day had passed and it was time for dinner.

On the downside, I was wet, tired, and cranky, and my braid had been undone, making it hard to hold my black hair back.

On the upside, I was no longer sticky and no longer reeked of Sprite.

The Aphrodite kids looked disappointed when they saw Annabeth and I walk into the dining pavilion completely makeup-and-glamour free.

I would've told them to die had I not been so tired.

"You," said Annabeth, and pointed to a crowded table. "Unclaimed. Hermes Table. Sit."

We had both long since lost the capability of speaking full sentences.

"M'kay," I said, and Annabeth trudged off to the Athena table, her blond curls limp from being damp.

When I reached the Hermes table, I more or less collapsed on the edge of the seat, my head hitting the table hard.

I could practically feel the curious looks the Hermes children gave me.

"You okay?" asked the boy to my left in concern.

"I'm ... killing ... the ... Aphrodite ... demigods ..." I hissed under the breath. "Every ... single ... one of them ... shall die ... in pain ..."

Then I groaned and clutched my skull as a major migraine took place.

Nemesis was no longer the most to-be-feared goddess. Aphrodite was, for if this is what her children were capable of, what horrors could the actual goddess be capable of?

"Cheer up," said one of the girls. "They're not all bad. Just ... overenthusiastic?"

I muttered something indistinct about lipstick, bombs, and the unholy lovechild of Barbie and Strawberry Shortcake.

"You sure you're okay?" snickered the boy to my left. I might have punched him in the face had I not been so tired.

"Hungry," I said weakly, lifting my head up and looking around. "Where's the food?"

As if on cue, girls started melting from the trees and running towards us, carrying platters of hamburgers, steak, cake, ice cream, salads, and stuff like that.

I locked my jaw to keep it from falling open. Could this day get any ... stupider?

They also served empty glasses, which they set down beside us.

"Uhhh," I said, picking my glass up with a weary arm. "Nice to know that I'm supposed to drink air ...?"

"Just think of what you want and it'll fill up on its own," advised the boy on my right.

That didn't really make sense, but I shrugged and decided to do what he said.

A few moments later, I was delightedly drinking a glass of Sprite.

"I'm Connor, by the way," said the boy on my right.

I looked at Connor ... and then looked past him at his twin brother.

"I'm Travis," said the clone, and then added, as if reading my mind, "We're not twins, just brothers."

I sunk down in my chair and decided that I officially hated Camp Half-Blood.

On the bright side ... I appeared to be able to conjure enough sprite to last my life.

Of course, I was unable to further enjoy it when suddenly, a big BOOM rang across camp, and a small flash of light and a sizzle alerted us to another presence.

We turned, to the front of the pavilion, where a dark-haired woman wearing a long, cream-coloured dress was standing in front of the table where pudgy Mr. D and Chiron were seated.

Cirsa/Circe turned to us with a familiar icy smile. "Hello, half-bloods."

My day just got stupider.

**[1.] The book was called Hex Hall; the vampire was named Jenna. Actually Jennifer, but she preferred Jenna.**

**Originally Circe was going to say, "Hello, midgets" but that would've been a bit too weird, even for her ...**

**Anyways, please review. But it's okay if you don't, Circe isn't going to suddenly and spontaneously kill off Canna if you don't ...**

**Maybe.**

**But that aside, I really would appreciate a review. Please? T_T**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

THE SIXTH CHAPTER

The cream-coloured dress she was wearing was in a traditional Ancient Greek style, fit for a goddess. Circe was barefoot, which was surprising; I'd kind of started associating with heels since I'd met her. Her long, shiny black hair fell in waves down her back, like she'd specially washed it with an entire bottle of Herbal Essences right before she teleported here. An exotic flower was pinned to her hair, holding some of it back behind her ear. She had dressed to impress, but I was just trying to figure out why she wasn't dead. I mean, I'd understood Ryan and Malcolm's little "she's-not-permanently-dead-and-she's-coming-back-to-get-you" speech, but couldn't she have stayed dead a bit longer?

I half-expected Circe to turn towards me and sneer.

She did begin to turn in what I thought was a general direction towards me, but then stopped halfway, as if something else had caught her eye.

She whirled around, and I saw her cold blue eyes lock on Ryan, who was currently sitting at what I assumed to be the Nemesis table, sharpening a knife and looking more bored and annoyed by the interruption than particularly bothered. He probably hadn't even looked up to see who it was, because when Circe ran across the pavilion towards him at a speed that would've challenged Sonic the Hedgehog, delightedly screamed "ODIE!" like an Aphrodite girl would scream, "OMG JUSTIN BIEBER!", and threw her arms around his neck, the look of shock on his smug face was priceless.

But seriously. What the fudge?

Ryan looked completely confused as he dropped his knife in surprise. "What's happe - "

"ODIE, I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH! HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?! OH, IT'S BEEN SO LONG! WON'T YOU GIVE YOUR DARLING CEE-CEE A HUG AND A KISS?"

Her arms constricted around his neck and smushed his face right into her chest.

Ryan made a choked, gargling sound, the horror in his eyes priceless. The look he was giving us all said, "This is just a nightmare, right?" as well as, "I still don't understand what is going on?" as well as, "Who the Hades is this woman, and why the Hades is she hugging me?"

Somehow the situation finally clicked in my brain, and I realized just how funny Ryan's scenario was.

So, like I do with all funny things, I laughed.

Loudly, and not very discreetly.

And the moment I laughed, nearly the whole camp burst into snickers as well.

Ryan's look of confusion and horror turned into a death glare. But an embarrassed death glare nonetheless, which made it worth it.

"I'm sorry," said Ryan through what was obviously gritted teeth as he did his best to remove himself from her. I wasn't surprised. Ryan hadn't exactly struck me as a touchy-feely person. _Or_, I thought as Circe ran her slender fingers through his dark hair before squishing him back into her chest, _as a pervert_.

Ryan continued, "But I have no idea who you are, and my name isn't Odie."

"What?" Circe finally pulled back, grabbing his shoulders and taking a good look at him. "Oh! I see. You _aren't_ my dear Odysseus, though you look a lot like him." She smiled flirtatiously at him, batting her long lashes slowly. "Very handsome, you."

Weird as this was for everyone else, Ryan looked the most weirded out. Mostly because it seemed it had finally clicked that this was Circe, AKA the woman he killed yesterday.

As for Odysseus … I was pretty sure I knew of the legend. Odysseus had been an Ancient King favored by Athena; when returning home from a war he came across Circe once, I believe. I'm pretty sure they at least had an affair, despite the fact that Odysseus had a wife, Penelope, waiting for him faithfully back home while fending off tons of suitors who wanted to marry her. I was also pretty sure that Circe wasn't the only person Odysseus had had a fling with in the ten years it took returning to his home. There was a girl called Calypso too, and it had been a close call with Nausicaa.

Men. Why had Mom helped Odysseus anyways? Oh, right … I guess Mom saw within Odysseus, herself. Who said opposites had to attract? Other than magnetic fields?

But Ryan, looking like Odysseus? Wow, Odie must've been really ugly.

"But I haven't come here to dwell on the past," said Circe, releasing Ryan and turning to face us again, though she leaned a bit towards the son of Nemesis nevertheless. "I have returned for something of much greater importance; I have come to grant a quest."

Medieval times much. The moment she said the word 'quest', a stupid image of myself clad in hideous Medieval times knight armor holding a lance while sitting awkwardly on a cranky-looking horse sprung up to mind.

I really hoped the Ancient Greeks hadn't done any jousting, and if they did, that demigods weren't expected to do it too.

While I sunk lower in my seat and prayed to whatever Greek gods were listening to me right then not to let me be the receiver of a mission to save a pretty little princess from a dragon, every other demigod in the pavilion suddenly straightened, looking hopeful.

You're kidding me.

These people _wanted_ to get eaten by a fire-breathing dragon?

"What kind of quest is this?" said Chiron warily.

Circe smiled. I was really starting to hate her smiles. "It is a simple request, and _fairly_ easy to fulfill." Was it just me, or did her eyes flicker in my direction for a second? "Shouldn't take more than a minute, though I'll be generous and lend the receiver of my gift a week to fulfill it."

"And if the questing person fails?" asked Chiron.

"Well, she will be sacrificed on an altar, in a very traditional Greek way, to me," chirped Circe cheerily.

Suddenly, no one looked very eager to go on this spectacular quest anymore. I couldn't really blame them. There was much to be dreaded from the word 'sacrified'.

Chiron narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "_She_? Have you already picked someone to partake in your little expedition?"

For a moment, Circe looked alarmed; but then she laughed, quickly recovering. "Oh, you've caught me! I do, actually." Her blue eyes sparkled with malice as she turned to me, her gaze locking on me. "Canna Reynolds, daughter of Athena, come forth."

Some of the smarter campers followed Circe's gaze towards me, including the Athena cabin. Most of the demigods, however, just looked in the direction of the Athena cabin.

Slowly, I stood up, thinking to myself about just how hideously unfair this was. And how dare she call me a daughter of Athena; I wasn't even claimed yet!

Even though I probably was a daughter of Athena, it didn't give her the right to make assumptions.

"I don't want to take your stupid quest," I said as all eyes turned to me.

Circe wasted no time in telling me the consequences of chickening out. "Then I declare you'll be sacrificed anyways. This is a direct order from the sorceress Circe. You _will_ partake in this quest, or by the Styx I swear I will strike you down myself."

The inky night sky was cloudless, but thunder rumbled anyways. Not a good sign, I assumed.

"What's the quest?" I sighed, as a knot of dread formed in my stomach.

"Simple, really." Circe reached out into the air and literally pulled a rectangular bar from the air, covered in gold wrapper. "Eat the entire of this chocolate bar in a weeks' time, and I will reward you greatly."

I stared at the little gold-wrapped bar, and saw my death in it.

Meanwhile, the others looked eager to take up the quest again.

"Is that all?" snorted Mr. D. "Why, that's hardly difficult …."

Chiron, on the other hand, looked suspicious. "This isn't one of those never-run-out foods, is it?" he asked.

Circe just laughed again. "Oh no, definitely not. It's a perfectly normal chocolate bar I bought at a convenience store myself. Since Canna found my dear darling pet spider, I thought I should return the favour with a sweet. Little children like sweet things, don't they?"

"Yeah I found your stupid, ugly, accursed tarantula, _Cirsa_, and then you tried to kill me!"

The sorceress waved a manicured hand dismissively. "You really ought not to exaggerate, Cannie. Besides, _you_ ended up killing _me_." She stared at me coldly. "Though I've still yet to figure out how you did it, it's of no consequence. As you can see, I'm out of Tartarus, so nothing lost, yes?"

"_I_ didn't kill you." But was there any point in saying Ryan had?

No, she probably wouldn't believe me. She hadn't even had a chance to turn around and take a look at her murderer before she disintegrated. And I also didn't think she would warm to the idea easily, seeing as she thought Ryan the spitting image of her long-lost lover from a few thousand years ago.

I glanced at Ryan to see whether or not he would back me up, but he still looked too traumatized about being more or less molested by Circe to talk.

Ignoring my words, Circe extended the hand holding the chocolate bar towards me. "Please take this token of my gratitude of finding my pet. And accept this quest. Not that you have a choice, and you can't dump this job on another as anyone else who touches the edible bit – not the wrapper – will spontaneously combust." Circe gave an 'evil' giggle. A second later, the chocolate bar vanished, only to reappear on the Hermes table where I'd just been sitting.

My eyes narrowed. "You know why I can't eat that thing; isn't that why you decided to give it to me in the first place?"

"Speaking nonsense once again, Cannie."

"Seriously! I can't, I – "

"No arguments!" interrupted Circe sweetly, and then turned to Chiron and Mr. D and gave a mocking bow. "I'll be back, same time next week, to make sure Can-Can carries out her little assignment."

I really hate nicknames like Cannie and Can-Can. But at least she wasn't calling me Kenny like Malcolm had.

Chiron opened his mouth and looked like he was about to object, but didn't get the chance to, when Circe's form suddenly blurred, and a moment later, she was gone.

Well, it beat the normal clichéd puff of purple smoke.

Dead silence, for a long, long time.

Slowly, Chiron turned to me.

"So why, exactly, can't you eat the chocolate bar?" he inquired.

"What, don't any of you receive any records or anything?" I snapped, not in a mood to be gracious and polite, even if Chiron seemed like a nice half-horse, half-guy, and had stuck up for me against Circe. But in my defense, I was still wet from the Aphrodite Incident, tired from the lack of sleep I'd gotten the night before going about coming to Camp Half-Blood, and a sorceress who'd tried to kill me but had gotten killed had turned up alive and presented before me two options: painfully kill myself by eating the chocolate, or get killed being sacrificed to her.

I wanted to go over and slump down in my seat next to Connor, but decided not to get any more closer to the strange looks the Hermes cabin were throwing me.

"Not exactly," admitted Chiron. "I understand from what Ryan and Malcolm reported to me that you have had a trying day, but I would appreciate it if you held back on the sarcasm." Really, from the way he talked it was as if he dealt with sarcasm every day.

Oh wait. Camp full of hormone-filled teenage demigods with ADHD. He probably did.

I really did complain way too much.

I sighed, gave up, and decided just to go out and tell the horse-human why I couldn't eat it. "I – "

However, I was cut off by the world suddenly getting a bit brighter.

I suddenly found the area around me bathed in a soft, silvery light reminiscent of the moon, almost like there was a silver lightbulb above my head.

I looked up and found myself looking at the butt and talons of a hologram of a silver owl spreading its wings.

"What's this?"

"A sign," explained Malcolm from the Athena table. "You've been claimed."

My feeling of dread increased. "By who?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Malcolm looked at me for a second, and then said, "Athena."

Great.

I almost asked aloud whether or not stabbing the hologram would hurt Athena, but at the last minute I remembered the whole 'I complain too much' thought, and realized that if I kept on going on like this, I would become emo, and then the emo-ness would over flow, and that someday in the future, I'd be reduced to a hobo sitting in an emo corner in an alley quietly lamenting over my life.

That vision was so sad, the words died in my throat.

So I just displayed my annoyance by throwing out my hands and looking ready to murder someone.

…

The one good thing with having a camp of demigods find out that your annoying and neglecting mother is the all-powerful Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy, is that people tend to forget to continue asking why you can't eat a chocolate bar.

Chiron called for a meeting, which more or less meant that all the cabin camp counselors were supposed to gather around a ping pong table in the Big House and talk about how bleak and hopeless things were.

Did I mention I was cranky and really, really tired and in need of some coffee and Sprite, and that the meeting was held right away so I wasn't even able to finish my dinner, which I hadn't even started in the first place?

… I really needed to work on toning down my complaining.

So the cabin counselors, a redheaded 'mortal' girl named Rachel, Chiron, Mr. D, and I all gathered around a ping pong table in the big house. In the middle of the ping pong table, the chocolate bar was placed.

I noted that there were two cabin leaders from both Demeter and Hermes – Katie and Miranda from Demeter, and Connor and Travis from Hermes – and that some of the cabin counselors were missing from some cabins: Hades and Zeus, as two primary examples.

I was also surprised to find Ryan there as well.

"You're the cabin leader for Nemesis?" I asked.

"No," he replied, "but the actual cabin counselor's in the camp's equivalent of a hospital right now, so …."

"… Oh."

Once we had all gathered around, and I found myself wedged between Annabeth and a snoring boy whose named turned out to be Clovis from Hypnos, Chiron started the meeting.

I thought that maybe it should've been Mr. D who should start, since he was apparently the camp director and everything, but I didn't really blame Chiron for taking charge, as Mr. D looked like he couldn't care less about what had just happened.

"We are here to discuss the quest Circe has given to Canna," said Chiron, "but before that, I would like to ask Canna why she says cannot eat the chocolate."

A pause. Everyone in the room turned to me.

So he hadn't forgotten.

"You might have at least tried to figure it out by now," I said, unkind under pressure. "'Cause you see, I just happen to be deathly allergic to chocolate."

Dead silence.

Then Ryan spoke. "Let her eat the chocolate. Who cares if she dies? If she doesn't, Circe's going to sacrifice her anyways."

I really hate that boy.

**So know you know the 'catch'.**

**The summary has been fulfilled!**

**Review? I'd especially like to know your thoughts on the bombshell that's just been dropped ….**


	7. Chapter 7

**Again, I do not own Percy Jackson.**

THE SEVENTH CHAPTER

It took a bit of willpower, and I did clench my fists, but I successfully managed not to leap over the table and start trying to throttle Ryan.

Chiron sent him an extremely sharp and disappointed look that shut him up immediately, anyways. Then he turned to me.

"You're … allergic?"

"Yes. A trait handed down from my father's side of the family, obviously."

"That's … inconvenient. How allergic are you?"

"Extremely," I replied. "Like, death-in-five-minutes so. I only react if I actually eat it though."

"Does medicine help?"

"A shot can tone it down. More shots also. But it's still really risky. For some reason I'm more allergic than others usually are. Don't know why, since my dad's allergic, but not nearly as allergic as I am. So I'm blaming my mother."

Chiron just looked at me for a moment, before decided that I would be of no further use to the council and had Annabeth take me to the Athena cabin so that I might be able to get some sleep.

…

By the time I got up the next day, a glance outside the window by my new bottom bunk told me that it was nearly noon. I groaned, sure that I'd missed breakfast, making this the second day I hadn't eaten.

The first day, breakfast hadn't really been an option, lunch had to be skipped as a result of the Aphrodite Incident, and dinner had been interrupted by Circe.

I found some clothes and some things to clean myself up with on the end of my bed, so I gratefully grabbed them and then headed for the much-needed shower.

The day before, the jump into the lake had vanquished the Sprite, but I now still smelt of, well, lake.

By the time I walked out of the bathroom about an hour later, wearing an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I felt much better, and much hungrier.

I was surprised to find Annabeth seated at the edge of what I assumed was her bed.

She stood when she saw me. "You missed breakfast," she observed.

"Yeah." I looked around for a hair drier but couldn't find one. "Starving, but they won't feed me now, will they?"

Annabeth shook her head. "No, but lunch will be just in an hour, so you won't have to wait long."

An hour sounded pretty far away to someone who hadn't eaten in over a day, but I decided not to complain. For once.

"So, um …." I groped for small talk. "How did the meeting go?"

"What?" She covered a yawn. "Oh, right. It went late into the night. We've decided you and four others are going on a quest to the Underworld, to find the ghost of the famous healer Asclepius. He'll probably be able to figure out a cure for your allergies."

I blinked. "A cure for my allergies? Can he do that?"

"Asclepius was skilled to the point where he could raise the dead. I'm pretty sure he can take care of a little allergy like yours. If we can convince him to go."

"Me and four others? Who's going with me?"

"Me, since Chiron thinks I'm fairly responsible enough, and Ryan from Nemesis, since Circe seems to like him and she'll be less likely trying to kill us off with him around."

I was okay with Annabeth going, but not so enthusiastic about Ryan's attendance.

"We're also contacting Nico di Angelo, son of Hades; it'll increase our chances if he comes with us, since his father more or less rules the Underworld, and he has powers over the dead."

"Hey," I said, seeing a shortcut. "If this Nico kid has these awesome ghost powers, why doesn't he just summon the ghost?"

Annabeth shook her head. "No one's seen Asclepius since he died. No one's been able to summon him since he died. It'll be risky, but better if we went down there ourselves."

Great. Field trip to the Land of the Dead.

Though it would probably be a good learning experience for my education.

"We're still trying to figure out who the last person should be," said Annabeth. "Probably someone musical. We're leaving tomorrow, at dawn. Argus will drive us into the city and we'll make our way to the Underworld shortcut at Central Park. From there on we have about five or six days to fix your allergy. Oh, and we're bringing the chocolate bar with us."

I nodded, though only understood half of what she said. Why did we need someone musical? Who was Argus? There was a shortcut to the Underworld in Central Park?

Annabeth flopped down onto her bed and said tiredly, "Go to the Hephaestus cabin or the weapons shed and find yourself something to arm yourself with when we go on the quest." She flashed me a look. "Unless you'd rather have your body be the receiving end of a Hyperborean's punch just because you didn't have a sword with you at the time."

"What about you?" I asked.

"Tired. Going to sleep."

I opened my mouth to ask where the Hephaestus cabin was, only to find that my older half-sister was already asleep.

So I departed the Athena cabin in search of someone who could give me directions.

…

I found a little cute brown-haired girl, only about seven or eight, sitting at a hearth in the middle of twelve set-up cabins.

"Excuse me," I said to her, as she poked the red embers with a long stick. "Do you know where the Hephaestus Cabin might happen to be?"

She looked up and smiled sweetly at me, and I drew back at bit, a shade disconcerted at her eyes; flames literally seemed to dance in them. Warm, tame-looking flames, but flames nonetheless.

"It is right over there," said the girl, pointing at a cabin nearby. I looked at it, saw the logos of hammers, flames, and anvils, and wondered how I'd missed that before.

"Thanks," I said, walking towards it.

"You're very welcome," she called after me.

Even before I reached the cabin entrance, I could hear the banging of metal and the hiss of steam. I tentatively knocked on the door.

There was a pause; then the sound of boots thudding against the ground occurred, and the door was yanked open. I found myself face-to-face with a serious-looking black girl with a bandana in her curly hair.

"You are?" she said promptly.

"Um, Canna, daughter of … Athena. I was told this was the Hephaestus cabin? I'm looking for a weapon."

"I'm Nyssa, camp counsellor of the Hephaestus." The girl stuck out her hand and eyed me warily as I tentatively shook. "So you're the weirdo who refused to eat Circe's chocolate last night?"

Weirdo? "Yeah," I said. "That's me."

"Hmm," said Nyssa thoughtfully. "Well … I _guess_ that's smart. Since she seems to hate you and everything, and you said you were allergic at the meeting last night. Though it seems a bit more obvious than smart."

"Thank you …?"

"Come on." She turned around and walked away, deeper into her cabin. After a moment of hesitation, I followed.

Hephaestus's cabin _would_ have been spacey, as it was a lot larger than many of the other cabins, but I barely managed to walk five feet without bumping into something. It wasn't that there were _lots_ of Hephaestus kids; there weren't any more than the other cabins. No, it was because the smith god's children seemed to have attempted to fill every little space they could with worktables, fires, and inventions. I flailed trying to dodge a shrieking mechanical bird and accidently knocked a scrawny kid over, scattering the blueprints in his arms everywhere.

Muttering a quick, "sorry", I darted after Nyssa before the kid could identify me and sic a rabid robot on me or something.

We soon reached a metal door on the wall opposite the entrance. A numbers touch-screen pad was propped up beside it, like the kind you see in movies where the secret agent punches in some numbers and suddenly the door sweeps open and the infiltration of the enemy's secret headquarters is nearly complete.

That was the _impression_ I got, but I didn't actually think Nyssa would do it. But she did, and as soon as the door sprang open, she ushered me into a dark room, then reached over to the inside wall and clicked open the lights. I blinked at the sudden brightness as the door closed behind us.

The little room had three fires at the sides, all burning but none being used for forging at the moment, as I'd seen in the previous room. It was a little hot and stuffy, and very simply adored weapons were hanging from the walls. A single, slightly small rectangular table stood in the center, a whole bunch of supplies on it – great chunks of metal, wood, silver, bronze; some tweezers varying in size and shape, some hammers also varying in size and shape, and a whole bunch of other instruments and supplies, even a bit of gold and an honest-to-goodness old-fashioned genuine anvil. I turned and saw a cheesy poster on the back of the door, with tips for 'choosing your proper weapon'.

"Is there any kind of weapon you'd prefer?" asked Nyssa, grabbing a stool and putting it by the table, where she helped herself to a seat.

I glanced around and, finding it pretty void of further sitting material, I figured I'd have to stand.

"Not really," I said truthfully. "I haven't really given it much thought. I though maybe there's just be a selection, and I'd choose. Annabeth mentioned something about a weapons shed."

"We could go to the weapons shed," said Nyssa, "but it would be better if we made a weapon specifically for you."

I nodded, but said, "But I'm leaving tomorrow, at dawn. If you could have it for me before then …?"

Nyssa waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. We'll have it done." She reached out and fingered a strand of gold, twirling it in her hands. "But what kind of weapon would you like?"

"Well …" I stared at the rows of weapons on the walls, all of them plain, but I had guessed that was the point – they weren't actually there for use, they were there for Hephaestus's 'clients' to look and browse, and decide what kind of weapon they wanted.

I wasn't particularly worried about what weapon I would end up with. If I couldn't figure it out, I'd just ask for a sword or something.

I looked around and thought for a long time.

I wasn't bad at being violent, but it wasn't like I was some kung fu master or anything. My karate style consisted of simple punches, kicks, clawing, scratching, and biting. And it wasn't as if I ever signed up for knife-throwing camp or fencing camp or archery camp. So I wasn't really sure what weapon might be right for me. Probably not a knife, since as a noob, I'd probably die if I tried close combat. (Many unflattering things I might be, but stupid was not one of them.) I had a good aim, but there was no one I was going to go around carrying a _gun_, and the only thing I knew about a bow and arrow is that you pull the arrow back on the string somehow, and then let go. A whip would be easy, but whacking someone or something with a piece of leather in a life-or-death crisis really wouldn't help much. Maybe a sword … true, I'd get disarmed in a few seconds, but it wasn't that hard to swing a sharp stick of metal.

Ten minutes later, Nyssa was clearly getting a little impatient, fidgeting in her chair, fiddling with the objects on the table. I sort of gave up and said, "I'll just have a sword, please."

She nodded, a brief flash of relief appearing in her brown eyes. She pointed at a few swords hanging on the wall, their hilts and blades of varying size. "Go try some and pick one that seems to weigh more or less properly in your hand. Then we will do some measurements and you're free to go. I will have your sword delivered as soon as possible. It shouldn't take me more than a few hours."

My eyes widened. "Really? Only three hours to make a whole sword?"

Nyssa rolled her eyes and pointed at the wall.

…

It didn't take long to find a size that didn't make me feel as if I wasn't actually holding anything at all, or a size that didn't make me unable to lift the blade from the ground at all. Afterwards, Nyssa did some measurements on my arm and then sent me away, insisting that I'd only hinder her if I stayed.

I didn't mind not staying. I had started to sweat in there, what with the fires going on and all.

The little flame-eyed girl was still at the hearth when I came out. She stood up when she saw me, and ran over with a slip of paper in her hand.

"This letter came a few minutes ago," she explained. "I told Chiron that if I saw you, I'd give it to you."

A letter, already? I flipped it over and saw it was from Stella, forwarded from my dad. It had probably arrived at our mailbox earlier today, and after all that yes-I-was-aware-of-your-mother-being-a-goddess-and-the-whole-Camp-thingy, he probably knew the Camp's address.

Stella … I shivered. Stella was a sweet girl once you got to know her, but if she's angry, moving to another country would not help. Breaking promises and ignoring her were included on her list of pet peeves, and she had probably _not_ found the promised email from me waiting on her inbox the moment she reached Lake Erie.

But seriously, a letter already? I sighed, unsurprised when I saw a little stamp marking it as Express. Of course. This was Stella, after all.

"Thank you," I told the girl. She smiled cheerfully, her fiery eyes dancing, and returned to her spot by the hearth.

I left the cabin area and walked a bit until I reached the forest. I hunted around until I found a big rock to sit on, and then sat on it, slitting the envelope open with my nail.

The letter inside it read:

_Canna,_

_Just one hour ago I touched down on Erie, finally rid of that long, exhausting plane ride that made me ever-so-irritable, gathered my belongings, and thought to myself, On the bright side, there ought to be an email from my wonderfully short-tempered best friend Canna waiting for me in my inbox._

_Imagine my surprise when I pulled out my tablet, logged into my hotmail account, and found nothing there._

_I know you aren't the kind of person to forget stuff like that, so something extremely urgent must've come up. After failing to receive a reply from any of the fifteen text messages I sent you, and getting no pick-up from the phone or a reply to all the messages I left you, my mother sickened of me using up our electronics, and I instead decided to quickly write you a letter and send it by Express so you can reply to it as soon as possible and explain to me why you broke your solemn promise._

_You can start writing now. Please._

_Sincerely,_

_ Your loving friend, Stella_

Damn it.

I scowled, standing as I shoved the letter back into the envelope, beginning to walk back to camp. I was thirsty and I needed a drink, and after watching girls smile and wave at me from underneath the waves yesterday during Annabeth's tour, I really didn't want to swim in the lake. Amongst other reasons.

I thought about how I might reply as I made through the forest. I could lie and say that I _had_ replied to and sent the text messages and the promised email, but Stella could see through my lies even through an email. It really was annoying, and sometimes I wondered how I had even befriended Stella in the first place.

So I'd have to write a letter then, and probably put down a few more promises just to appease her.

She could be sweet in a letter but in real life there was no mistaking the cold aura that could radiate off her like paint fumes from a bucket of paint.

_Splash_.

I blinked, and withdrew my foot, looking down.

Goblets, a few fallen over, but many of them still standing, strewn all over the forest floor. They were filled with some sort of dark, fizzy liquid and only had a few flies buzzing about them, so they hadn't been deserted for long. I'd kicked a few over, the black fluid seeping into the grass, lightly staining the green a kind of gold-orange.

Scowling at the cool wetness going through my white sneakers touching my skin through a layer of sock, I kneeled, careful not to get myself any wetter. I plucked filled goblet still standing from the ground, dipping my finger in and very hesitantly tasting the fizzing black thing.

… Coke? What the heck? I set the cup back down and stood, confused. I glanced around, estimating about a hundred lying about. There were a few coke and Pepsi bottles lying against the roots of trees, too, and it was still fizzing, so it hadn't been left out long. Probably whoever had put them here had just left a few minutes before I arrived. Why, though?

Still, even if they had just been placed here a little while ago, shouldn't there be more knocked-over goblets than the ones I had just kicked? And there were only a few flies and no animals.

I listened, expecting to hear more bird chirps and animal noises, but it was quiet except for the faint fizz of pop and the wind rustling through the leaves.

"What are you doing here?" hissed a girl's voice. Startled, I whirled around, accidently knocking over a few more cups and soaking my shoes further.

Cursing, I stared openly at the frightened face that had appeared out of a nearby tree. I thought for a moment, remembering similar faces from the dinner Circe had ruined last night. Dryads?

"You should run," the dryad told me. Her green eyes glanced around as if to check no one was watching or listening. "Before _they_ come back, and find you've kicked over a few of their drinks. They're very … partial about these kind of things."

"Who's going to come back?" I asked. "And why did they just leave all these cups standing around like this?"

The dryad flinched, and pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh!" she said enigmatically before melting back into her tree.

"Hey, don't just leave! Answer my questions!" I exclaimed, a little unnerved now at the unnatural silence. I hesitantly knocked on the tree's bark, but the dryad didn't come back out, and with an annoyed sigh, I gave up and walked away, careful to go quickly and quietly, and around the goblets, making sure I didn't kick any more over.

**Stella's profile will appear at the beginning of the next chapter. If you do not recall who Stella is; she is Canna's best friend at school. She was mentioned a few times before in earlier chapters, but has not made an appearance yet.**

**This chapter was more of a filler than anything.**

**Review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

**I think Ryan's profile might have said his was Number Four. Sorry, that was a mistake.**

_Character Profile No. 4: Stella Evan_

_Age: 14 (as of current)_

_Species: human/mortal_

_Star Sign: Scorpio_

_Appearance: tall, wavy black hair, dark eyes (some Italian back round)_

_Personality: calm, sweet, cold, intimidating, motherly, stubborn_

_Likes: black, dresses, honesty, intelligence_

_Dislikes: sweet things, broken promises, summer, seriousness_

_Catchphrase: "Please don't break your promise. It will wound me deeply, and your sin shall forever be stained like an echo against your heart, remaining as a shadow I can easily follow and track to obtain my revenge."_

THE EIGHTH CHAPTER:

As I stumbled back into camp and towards the Athena cabin hoping to maybe sit down somewhere at least vaguely secure and private, and clear my thoughts, I was suddenly hit by a wave of nausea strong enough to make me fall to my knees and start coughing.

One nearby camper with a bow strapped to his back stopped and stared. "Dude, you okay?"

"I'm fine," I managed, getting to my feet with some difficulty and stumbling forward. I wasn't going to black out, like I did last time in my kitchen from that cut. Twice in two days is a little much.

"You sure? You don't look okay …."

"I'm fine! Leave me alone." A little rude, maybe, especially since he was just trying to give me help I kinda needed, emphasized when a headache suddenly hit my skull with the force of a charging rhino, but the Athena cabin wasn't far … it was just over there, close enough that I could feel all the smartness coming off it in waves … surely I'd be able to make it.

The guy looked at me uncertainly for another moment, and then shrugged and walked away.

One hand clutched at my head while the other was pressing against my chest. With every pulse of my suddenly loud heart, my head throbbed painfully, and with each step I felt as if my stomach's contents were crawling up my throat by another centimetre or so.

Migraine and stomach ache. What a wonderful combination.

When I finally made it to my cabin, I didn't even bother going through the door. I sagged into the rocking chair, gasping and willing my food to stay where it was supposed to be. I threw dark looks at some people who flashed me weird glances as they passed, and though they unfortunately didn't look particularly threatened, they continued on their way without asking what was wrong.

It felt like hours before my headache and nausea abated. When they finally did, I sat there, suddenly cold and still trembling, I slowly got to my feet, feeling a little light-headed and dizzy.

"Canna?"

I turned. It was my big brother Malcolm, staring at me from the suddenly open door of the Athena cabin, one blond eyebrow raised curiously.

"Y-Yes?"

"Um … how long have you been out here?"

"Not long," I lied.

"… Sure." He sighed and smiled at me. "You know you can come in, right? This is your cabin, after all."

"Um … I know."

"Good. 'Cause I didn't want you to feel threatened or anything, like we weren't letting you in …" he trailed off.

We stood there for a few more awkward moments. I liked him (better than Ryan, at least), and I thought he was cool for a guy who suddenly turned out to be my older half-brother out of nowhere, but like most situations like this, I supposed there would be a lot more awkward silences in the future to come.

"Well," said Malcolm finally, making me jump a little. "I'm heading to Hephaestus. If you're going to go in, don't wake Annabeth."

"I know." Annabeth didn't strike me as one who would respond well to being woken up, anyways.

"And one more piece of advice," he said as he descended the porch steps. "Don't date any sons of Poseidon, or mom will slaughter him."

Like mom cared about me, anyways.

…

I continued to feel a little dizzy and light-headed a few hours afterwards, though I looking back on what I'd gone through, I couldn't figure out what had affected me like that. By the time it was time for dinner, however, all ill effects were gone and I decided to put it behind me.

I even managed to write a letter to Stella and had Chiron promise to send it as soon as he could.

At dinner I chucked into the fire a single grape for mom, and a hamburger for the gods in general. Which was rather generous, seeing as the gods hadn't exactly been nice to me during the past 48 hours. And mom … well, the moment I tossed the grape in, I regretted wasting it on something like that. Maybe I should've eaten it and just left her the seeds.

I sat with the Athena cabin at dinner, but no one – not even Annabeth or Malcolm – bothered to talk to me, and thought the food was great, I more or less picked on it as I worried about the upcoming fight. I retired early to go toss and turn on my bunk for a few hours before finally falling asleep.

What felt like only seconds later, I was being shaken awake by Annabeth.

"Wake up," she whispered. "It's time. We're meeting at Thalia's Pine."

I groaned and wanted to ask for a few more minutes, until Annabeth said:

"I know you haven't had much time to get used to your new life, and I know you're tired, but you have to wake up. We specifically arranged to leave at dawn, and we have to get going, or you'll _only_ have a week to get used to this life."

So with a sigh, I kicked my blankets off, went to change and freshen up, and Annabeth and I grabbed what we figured we needed, and left. I took with me a backpack I had put some things I thought might be useful, and with some difficultly (and Annabeth's help), I managed to strap on the sword Nyssa gave me at dinner the day before.

I hadn't really gotten a chance to go to the combat practice arena place and swing it at some dummies, but I'd tested it, and it was pretty goddamn sharp.

It was also apparently made of something called Celestial Bronze, which was supposedly good for turning monsters into cute little piles of yellow dust.

At the hill with the pine tree, the dragon, and the Golden Fleece, Annabeth and I met Ryan, a dark-haired emo-looking boy I didn't know who looked around my age, and the bow-and-arrow guy who'd asked me if I was okay yesterday, when I was having my headache-and-vomit fit. At the side also stood a Annabeth's boyfriend, Percy Jackson; a cute little black-haired girl who looked around eight in a bright yellow dress that made her alabaster skin look sickly; Chiron, without his wheelchair; and a tall guy I immediately flinched away from, which was probably prejudiced, but I thought it would be easier for me to digest a blue-skinned man with eyes all over the skin I could see from a distance.

"Canna, this is Will Solace" – Annabeth pointed at bow-and-arrows – "and Nico di Angelo." She turned to point at the dark-haired boy I didn't recognize. "The guy with the eyes all over him is Argus, and he will be taking us to Central Park."

"Central Park?" I asked. "Why Central Park?"

"Because, oh-genius," said Ryan with an annoying smile that said I should know this already, "that's where the gate to the Underworld is."

"_One_ of them," corrected Annabeth as I scowled at him. "The rocks were discovered very recently. You have to play music to get through."

"The rocks aren't as mysterious as they were in Greece," said Percy was a rueful sigh. "Grover managed opened them easily with _his_ music … and we all know how _wonderful_ his is."

Everyone other than myself nodded and smiled. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the satyr I'd met first coming here wasn't exactly a first-rate musician.

"Are all of us going on this quest?" I asked. "I thought it was just five of us."

"It is," said Will. "Me, Annabeth, you, Ryan, and Nico. You, because, obviously, your allergy is the objective of this quest; Annabeth because she's a good leader; me because I can open Orpheus's rocks with my music and Asclepius might listen to me as a fellow son of Apollo; Ryan because Circe, who seems to hate you, seems to like him and is less likely to ambush us with him here; and Nico, because he's the son of Hades and knows the Underworld well, and will probably find Asclepius for us. Argus is just taking us to Central, and the Percy, Chiron, and Ally are just seeing us off."

I figured Ally must be the name of the little girl in the yellow dress. She glanced up at me nervously, with huge chocolate-brown eyes. I tried to smile at her reassuringly, but she just took a step back and turned her face away, hiding it behind a long, dark curtain of hair that reminded me of Stella's.

"We should probably go now," said Nico, speaking for the first time. I glanced at him; he looked annoyed, and a little bored, a bit like a mini, less sneering, Ryan.

"Yeah," agreed Annabeth.

I watched as Annabeth went over to Percy. They exchanged a few words that I didn't try to hear, and then they kissed intimately enough for me to flush and take a sudden interest in the lightening sky. Chiron went over to talk to Will and Nico, and Ally, to my surprise, ran up to Ryan and hugged him hard enough to make him stumble back a bit. He looked a little startled but when he smiled down at her, it was more gently than I'd ever seen him. I wondered if Ally was his little sister.

After a few moments, Chiron left Will and Nico and went over to me.

"Canna," he said, looking at me seriously. "You're probably thinking this is going to be an easy excursion to the Underworld, a bit of persuading and bribing, and then back out again."

I didn't know how to answer that, so after some consideration, I decided not to say anything.

"Unfortunately," said Chiron, "there's a sorceress who seems distinctly intent on killing you, and the gods … they are fickle. Most will ignore you, but there is always the chance that some might see you, a demigod and the perfect pawn, as a form of amusement."

"What do you mean by 'amusement'?"

Chiron put his hand on my shoulder. "Just be careful. You are young and inexperienced, and I doubt you've even had a chance to _try out_ that sword of yours. This seems like a simple quest, but it's very easy to make yourself enemies. Especially in the Underworld."

"Okay. I understand." Mostly.

After a pause, Chiron smiled, nodded, and moved on to Percy and Annabeth.

…

We were probably only five miles from Central Park, going on a lane rather less crowded than usual highways, when all of a sudden a giant BOOM rocked through Argus's silver van and the car was off of the cement and tumbling down a grassy hill.

As momentum and my seatbelt jerked me back and forth, I dazedly thought of how good timing this all was, seeing as it had cut off Annabeth, who'd been in the middle of fiercely scolding Ryan and I for getting so worked up about whether or not the Eiffel Tower was finished on a Monday or a Wednesay.

The van rolled to the bottom of the hill, rocked a few times, and then landed on its back.

"Everyone, get out now!" screamed Annabeth, jerking everyone – everyone conscious, that is – back to reality. I became suddenly aware that my head and limbs were aching as if I'd just run a marathon, and something was trickling down the side of my face from my forehead.

I fumbled for my seatbelt, and immediately dropped head-first onto the severely battered roof of the van. Around me, by comrades did the same.

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

"My head!"

"GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!" screamed Annabeth frantically. Instinctively responding to the command, I quickly flipped the lock open and a second later, kicked the door open and stumbled out, quickly followed by the others.

The moment I stepped onto the grass, I knew something was wrong. starting with the fact that our vehicle was wrecked and ending with the fact that we were surrounded by a large group of crazy-eyed teenaged girls watching us intently.

With a loud bang, one of the doors in the front gave, and Annabeth stumbled out. She had a cut on her lip and a bruise on one cheekbone, and she was limping, but otherwise she seemed okay. I glanced around, and the others looked the same – like they'd been in a fistfight. We were lucky, I realized, and I almost fell to my knees then and there and cried out in worship for whatever god was the god of seatbelts.

But I stopped myself when I saw was Annabeth was dragging.

"Argus," Ryan murmured, seeming as stunned as I felt. Half of the eyes on Argus had closed, and the other half were fluttering, going in-between open and closed. Blood was trickling from his temple, and I could see bits of glass embedded into his blue polo shirt, mostly around where blood was slowly seeping through. I recoiled, alarmed.

"He's not dead, is he?" I whispered.

"No," said Will. "He's not like us. If he died, he'd be sent to Tartarus."

"Why?" said a disappointed, female voice.

We turned. It was one of the young teenaged girls surrounding us. She had long, messy hair, dagger-bright eyes, and had a face beautiful in a violent way. From the way the other girls stood about her, I could assume she was the leader.

"Why?" she repeated again, shaking her head forlornly. Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw Ryan, Nico, and Annabeth move their hands to the hilts of their weapons, and Will took out his bow, though he didn't use it to fire. "I don't want _her_ to die – " here, to my surprise, she jabbed an accusing finger at me, " – but it no fun without at least a few casualties." She pouted and sniffled.

"Fun?" repeated Nico. He was staring at them like they were crazy. And, well, they did seem a little insane. "Is this all a game to you?"

"Not a game!" the girl scolded with a scowl. "A party!"

At the word 'party', the other girls burst into happy cheers.

"Party, party, party!" they chanted excitedly.

I had to raise my voice to be heard over the noise.

"Who are you, and what do you want with us?" I demanded angrily.

The cheering abruptly stopped. The leader girl sniffed haughtily at me. "Clearly, _you_ are not Dionysus. He would know who we are."

"You're the Maenads," said Annabeth, and all heads swung towards her.

She was glaring at the leader girl, her stormy grey eyes narrowed, her expression calm, angry, and focused.

"What do you want with us?" my older sister said in a low voice. "Nothing we're doing has anything to do with you. Why did you kick our van down the hill? Were you trying to kill us? Did Circe hire you?"

"Circe?" the leader exclaimed. "Though she's good at giving makeovers, none of us want anything to do with that weak, snotty, know-it-all, so stiff that she couldn't party to save her poor miserable immortal existence." Her followers grumbled their agreement. "No, we're here because we want to party! Isn't that right, girls?"

More cheers.

Chiron was right. I really wasn't prepared for demigod life. Had Annabeth just said that these people _kicked_ the _van_ off the _highway_?

"And because we have something personal to settle with that one," added the leader thoughtfully, pointing at me again, making me wonder what was up with everyone wanting to kill me all of the sudden. "But first …."

She took what seemed like only a step in our direction, but a split second later she was standing in front of Nico, staring at him with those wide, bright eyes and he jumped and struggled to contain what might've been a scream.

"Are you Dionysus?" she asked.

"Um … what?"

Her curious expression changed into a frown, and suddenly Nico was flying through the air, only stopping when his back slammed into a tree and he slumped down, motionless.

I clamped my hand over my mouth in horror and around me, the looks on the faces of my companions changed into alarm.

Lightning-fast, Ryan swung his suddenly unsheathed sword at the leader, and arrows whizzed through the air. With reflexes faster than I could follow, the girl ducked the blade and sidestepped the arrows, laughing as if it was nothing.

Around us, her followers cheered and laughed and giggled and danced amongst themselves, but didn't bother helping their leader.

I unsheathed my sword, and when the leader darted at me, I swung it at her as best as I could with no training whatsoever. It missed her by miles and a second later she had grabbed me by the arm and was pulling me back to her group. The hilt fell out of my hand and the blade thumped onto the grass.

"Canna!" exclaimed Annabeth, leaving Argus's side and coming forward, only to be blocked by two giggling Maenads. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she swung her knife, desperately trying to fend them off. Ryan tried going over to her while Will went after Nico, who was still unconscious – maybe even dead – but they were both blocked by some more Maenads, who apparently decided it might be fun to join the fight.

"Are you Dionysus?" they asked them both.

Ryan responded by attempting to decapitate the speaker. Will replied by aiming some arrows at him.

Unfortunately, one of them grabbed his sword and promptly broke it so it bent on an angle, like a boomerang – and then tossed it into the woods. Another ducked under and grabbed Will's bow, snapped it like a twig.

And me?

I stood there, restrained by Maenads, shocked and completely useless.

"Dionysus isn't here, Babette!" called the one who destroyed Ryan's bow over to the leader.

"That's too bad," sighed the leader – Babette – sadly. "We haven't seen him in such a long time, it's sad, really …. But oh well. We will merely party until we find him again – and then we'll party some more! Hahahahaha!"

"Party, party, party!" the others cheered.

A sudden movement made me look around. It was Argus; now, most of his eyes were opened, and although he was clutching his arm and he looked like he in was in pain, it was clear from the way he was suddenly running at Babette that he was going to attack.

Babette was too busy cheering to pay attention.

"Party, party, party! We shall celebrate with coke and pepsi, and we shall eat donuts and other fattening food while we dance under a hundred disco balls!"

Then, one of the Maenads screamed, "Babette – behind you!"

The Maenad's eyes widened, her smile freezing as she began to turn – but too late. Argus's fists came down, as threatening as an outraged Stella.

And then, another one of the Maenads swooped in and kicked Argus backwards, right before he could land a blow. As he staggered backwards, she and three others quickly followed up, pounding and kicking. I heard Annabeth scream as he coughed, choking, and golden liquid sloshed from his mouth and onto the grass. Finally, one of the Maenads punched him in the chest, right over the heart, and after a moment, Argus burst into a thick cloud of yellow sulphur.

The exact same thing had happened to Circe, when Ryan stabbed her from the back.

At my ear, I hear Babette's voice whispering to me.

"Don't you ever taint our drinks with your touch ever again. We will kill you and your friends, but first, we will make you party as one of us when you wake. A most wonderful, fitting end! You should be happy to be so privileged as to dance with the Maenads."

The next thing I knew, a dark, cold, fizzy liquid was being sloshed down my throat. I gargled and choked. _Coke_? I tried to spit it out, but the Maenads grabbed my jaw and forced my mouth open as Babette poured down more and more.

At last they let me go and I pushed them aside as I darted, swaying and unbalanced, to my feet. I stumbled forward, wanting to get as far away from them and their shrieking laughter as possible.

Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I fell to my knees, and then I was falling onto the grass.

A violent wave of nausea hit me, just like before. I turned my head aside and retched my quickly-eaten breakfast into the grass, and then rolled away from the rancid smell, gasping.

"What was in that drink?" shouted Will, but the Maenads just laughed.

The migraine hit me so bad I thought I'd pass out. I trembled, as my head throbbed like I was having a hangover.

I lay my cheek against the grass, blessedly cool from this morning's dew. I blinked, but everything was dark – I suddenly couldn't see anything.

The last thing I remembered was a soft grey light, so warm and bright I wanted to cry.

***screams***

**That was just so cliché I feel ready to pound my head against the wall!**

**Well … hopefully the next chapter (which will be in third-person narrative) will be more fun to write. Not that Canna's going to remember any of it.**

**The next character profile will be Annoyo's … you know, Canna's cat? After that I'll probably do Ally, who is, in fact, Ryan's little sister.**

**Review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or the Heroes of Olympus.**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. For me, updating has become rather irregular.**

**I guess I decided to update today to celebrate Erza NOT dying in the latest Fairy Tail chapter, and a little while ago it was Lacie Baskerville's birthday.**

**This chapter has a lot to do with what happened in the previous chapter, but it's so disconnected from the previous chapter that, I warn you, it's going to be somewhat very confusing. Just ignore the confusion for now and go with it. I haven't accidentally skipped a chapter, I swear.**

**Very little will be explained in this chapter, but most of it will be explained in the chapter after the next, when Canna returns to herself, and everything is first-person narrative again.**

_Character Profile No. 5: Easily Annoyed "Annoyo" Reynolds_

_Age: 4 (currently)_

_Species: cat_

_Star Sign: Leo_

_Appearance: calico fur, green eyes_

_Personality: impatient, self-serving, loyal, irritable_

_Likes: food, milk, yarn, sleep_

_Dislikes: being woken up, mice, rats, birds_

_Catchphrase: "Meow."_

THE NINTH CHAPTER:

Canna blearily opened her heavy eyes. Her head throbbed and as she groaned and turned, she became aware that her body was aching all over.

"You're awake."

Who was that? The voice sounded familiar. Still lying down, she rubbed her eyes and blinked owlishly at the person seated in front of her, looking down at her in concern. The lighting was really, really bad, so it was hard to tell, but it was a girl about sixteen or seventeen, whose long curly blond hair, tied up in a messy ponytail that looked like it had been hastily made, fell across one shoulder. The strands that had somehow managed to free themselves from her ponytail framed her face, and the two dark eyes set into it, glittering fiercely.

Canna wondered who and what this girl was doing in her bedroom, so late at night. (She figured it was probably night time, since it was so dark.) And actually …. She looked a little closer, squinting slightly. This girl kinda reminded her of her mom.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, she let out an ear-splitting scream and darted to her feet, backing up until she had her back against the wall.

The girl drew back, startled. "Canna?!"

"You're working for HER, aren't you? You must've – she must've – Mother! She sent you, didn't she? Well, whatever stupidity that comes out of your oddly-shaped mouth, I won't listen! I won't! I'm rather cut my ears off!" She slammed her palms over her ears and started to sing. "Lalalalala, I can't hear you! I'm not going to listen to you tell me about how great SHE is, because she isn't! YOU'LL NEVER GET ME ON YOUR SIDE, BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I'LL NEVER JOIN YOU!"

The girl was now staring at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. An act, Canna deduced – she was clearly just trying to act surprised to deceive her or something! Although, she was a good actor. She did look genuinely shocked.

Still! "Who are you anyways, to wake me up in the middle of the night?!" she shrieked, shaking her head wildly. "You do realize how important my education is! I probably have a math test tomorrow – oh no, A MATH TEST! I had a dream about having a math test tomorrow – or today, or tomorrow … well, my dreams are PROPHETIC! Don't tell," she added in a hush whisper. "And Stella – STEEEEELLA! No, stop it! Don't get made at me! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me!"

Canna collapsed onto her knees and started sobbing broken-heartedly into her hands. It just wasn't fair.

"I didn't do anything, I swear …" Suddenly, she jerked her head upwards, turning to Annabeth with such intensity that the blond girl started. "I didn't do anything, did I, Annabeth?"

"Uh …."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Canna screamed to the sky. "MY LIFE IS OVEEEEEEEEEEEER!" Then: "Wait, is your name Annabeth? How funny would it be if it was? I don't even know you! Hahahahahahaha!" She giggled hysterically. "I guess it was just a chicken's intuition! Do you like chicken? I hate chicken … except for when it's meat."

_Isn't chicken always meat?_ wondered Annabeth, but she didn't dare say anything aloud.

"I'm soooo tired!" With a dreamy sigh, Canna collapsed bonelessly onto the grass. "Why'd you wake me up? This bed is so soft, and warm, and fluffy … it must be made out of lots of baby birds! Hey, look, Annie-Bethany!" Laughing, Canna got to her feet once more, spread her arms, and started to spin around in mindless little circles. "There are the most adorable white feathers falling from the sky, just like snow! Isn't it the most lovely, wonderful sight you've ever, ever seen-ner? I could make a snow angel! Oh, oh! Look, the cloud-feather! Can you tell what that one is? It looks like a reindeer! Or an ice cream cone! Or a butt! Hahahahahaha, this is so much fun!"

She spun and spun, dizzy and hysterical and unbalanced and, all of a sudden, certifiably insane.

"Annabeth?" To Canna's surprise, a shadow lifted itself off from the ground, stretching and yawning. "What's going on? Is Canna awake?"

Canna screamed and darted behind a tree. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Shadows! I hate shadows! Get away from me, you stupid random figure person! I HATE YOU! You want to kill me, but I'll never let yooooooooooooou! I'll survive and come back for my revenge, you just watch me! And there is nothing you can do to stop me! Wait! No! Stop! Don't get any closer! Stop it! I hate it! You're oozing so much darkness! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Ryan stared at Canna for a second, and then turned to Annabeth. "What the fudge? Is she hallucinating or something?"

Canna grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground and dashed it against the tree. "Stupid spider! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Annabeth wondered frantically if there was a spider on the tree or something, until Canna started punching the rock.

"Die! Die! DIE!"

Ryan went over to Canna and slapped her on the back of her head. To his surprise, the rock fell out of her fingers and her knees buckled, her body falling onto the grass yet again. Surely he hadn't whacked her that hard ….

"Shut up, stupid. What's wrong with you today? Do you want to wake the others?"

"Today?" repeated Canna mindlessly. "Today? To-day? Tooo-daaaay? Day? Day? Day?" Her grey eyes lit up suddenly. "So it's daytime."

Ryan glanced up at the star-splattered sky and smirked. "Yeah. It's day. Can't you feel the sun shining, Can-Can?"

She lifted her hand to her eyes as if to shield herself from the 'sun', and squinted. "The sun's rather dim, don't you think, Master Angry? Could we be standing in the middle of a solar eclipse?" She sat up straight, but then slumped dejectedly when something else occurred to her. "Or … could it be … THE SUN HAS BEEN EATEN AWAY BY OURO-BOREE, AND IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AND WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

She lifted her hands to her face to wail into her hands, but poked herself in the eye with her nail. Canna screamed.

"MY EYE! MY EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYY YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I'M GOING TO GO BLIND, ANGRY-SAMA! I'M GOING BLIND! AAAAAAAAAARGH! I ALREADY CAN'T SEE ANYTHING! DO SOMETHING!"

She grabbed Ryan by the leg and shook him hard enough to make the surprised demigod fall flat on his back.

"Canna, you jerk, let go of me before I wring your neck!"

"I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND! THIS IS SO TRAGIC! MOMMY AND DADDY WILL BE SO, SO SAD! Well … heh. Let Mommy be sad. Sad Mommy makes happy Cannie."

"I'm going to kill you …."

Suddenly Annabeth was there, smiling down at Canna the same way a doctor might smile falsely reassuringly at a mental hospital patient. "It's alright, Canna. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm your friend, Annabeth. We're all your friends here. I'm your sister. And you're not blind."

Canna sniffled. "But I am!"

Annabeth lifted her hand. "How many fingers am I holding up, Canna?"

"… Three."

"See? You can see?"

"I can see!" Canna shouted joyously, letting go of Ryan's leg and jumping to her feet. She bounced up and down in joy. "I can see!"

A second later: "ANNIE-BETHANY! YOU LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIED!"

Annabeth blinked.

All of a sudden, tears were streaming down Canna's cheeks. She jabbed an accusing finger at Ryan, who was rubbing his leg, muttering, and scowling at her. "You said you guys are all my friends, but he threatened to kill me! YOU ARE IN CAHOOTS WITH MOMMY! YOU SEEK TO DECIEVE ME!"

"No, Canna," said Annabeth soothingly. "I wasn't lying. Ryan is just … really bad at … showing affection …? Threatening is his way of showing love."

"That is a big piece of b – "

Without changing her smiling expression or taking her eyes off Canna, Annabeth kicked Ryan in the shin. Hard.

"I-it's the truth," Ryan choked out painfully, tears welling up in his eyes. "I definitely don't love you … b-but let's … be … friends."

Canna straightened, her expression becoming imperious. She tucked her loose, messy hair behind her ears, straightened her clothing, and shot Ryan a superior look.

She said, "I apologize, Master Angry, but I decline your offer. Your very aura repulses me. With respect, I think myself above foolish scum such as yourself. You will accept this rejection, right?"

Ryan snorted and opened his mouth to tell Canna just what he thought of her existence, when Annabeth turned and directed her suddenly chillingly-cold smile at him. The words died in his mouth.

"S-Sure."

Canna nodded importantly. "Good. There might've been problems if you had … reacted scathingly."

As she turned to Annabeth, Ryan flashed her a dark look behind her back.

Canna looked hesitant, and all of a sudden she was no longer the queen looking down on peasants, but a shy little eight-year old uncertainly asking her older sibling if she could spare some time to play. It was surprising how quickly Canna went in-between personalities in this state.

"My hair has become undone, Annie-Bethany. Will you fix it for me?"

"Um … okay. I-if you want. But I don't have an extra hair tie."

Canna immediately dropped to her knees and started combing through the grass for her, starting a monologue as she did so.

"Funny, the floor is all strange and grass-like … did Daddy-chan get new carpet? I love it! It's so realistic, just like actual grass." She put her face near the ground and inhaled deeply. "Ah, it even smells like grass! GAH! A BUG FLEW UP MY NOSTRIL-CHILD! Wow, I really must thank Daddy … it's so realistic there are even plastic bugs … though there better not be plastic spiders …."

Annabeth and Ryan exchanged a look.

"You go wake the others," Annabeth whispered, personally surprised that they hadn't already woken up from all the racket. "I'll try and keep her busy while we figure out what the hell is wrong with her."

"Alright – wha?"

"Huh? What's wrong?" Annabeth hoped that whatever it was, it wasn't too big. She didn't think she could handle much more stress. She wished Percy were there. He probably would've been more freaked out than her, actually – but his presence would be comforting.

"Where did Will and Nico go?" asked Ryan in disbelief. Annabeth swung around, and to her surprise, found that Ryan was right. Their sleeping bags gathered around the dead fire were there, but they were empty. "I could've sworn I just saw them as I was getting up."

"And how did they sneak past us without us hearing them?" Annabeth frowned. "I mean, Nico can shadow-travel – but I would've detected Will, at least."

Ryan didn't reply.

"We better find them soon," Annabeth continued. "It's not good to get split up. Damn it, when I get my hands on them, I'll wring their little necks …." Her eyes narrowed fiercely as she turned to the son of Nemesis.

Who, all of the sudden, wasn't there anymore. In fact, as she discovered when her head whipped back and forth as she looked around, there was no trace of him anywhere.

At all.

"Annie-Bethany! Look! I found my hair tie!"

"Actually, Canna, that's a worm."

"Oh!" Canna lifted the squirming segmented thing high up to her face, her eyes as huge as saucers. "Really?"

Annabeth unsheathed her knife, as well as Canna's sword, which was also hanging off her belt. After a moment of pause she decided to give Canna her sword – in her current state, Canna was more likely to think it was a giant lollipop rather than a weapon, but she needed to be able to defend herself.

She immediately regretted tossing the sword to Canna, however, because as the blade clattered onto the grass, Canna didn't even react – no, she just continued staring curiously at the worm like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Still, if Annabeth went to go get it back, there was a chance that whatever had whisked the boys away would target her while her back was turned.

She readied her knife, completely oblivious to the huge shape looming behind her.

Canna continued to stare a few more moments – and then, suddenly, she let out a shriek and threw the squiggling worm across the clearing, where it unfortunately exploded against a pointy rock.

"Ew! That was a worm! _Dis-gus-ting_! But it was very cute … I wanted to eat it. Oh! Look!" Canna pointed at the sky excitedly. "I see a fluffy bunny with devil horns! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA … Annie-Bethany?"

Canna looked around, only to find herself all alone.

Her reaction was instant.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO!"

She curled up into fetal position, sobbing into her knees dejectedly. "I'm all alone! I don't want to be all alone! Where did Master Angry and Annie-Bethany go? They didn't leave me, did they? BUT THEY DID! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! THEY'VE LEFT ME TO DIE, OR SOMETHING! Or …." She gasped. "Maybe they've left to go find evil Mommy and they were spying on my this WHOLE TIME and now they're going to go tell her everything, because they're a bunch of big fat liars and hate me after all!"

Then: "Hey … what's this? It's all pretty and shiny …."

She picked up the sword by the hilt, turning it and admiring its shine in the moonlight.

"What a beautiful stick this is! I don't think one is lucky enough to see a stick as beautiful as this every day. How fortunate I am! Say, I could probably hit things with this …."

She giggled hysterically as she staggered onto her feet.

"Swish, swish! The vorpal blade goes snicker-snack …."

Canna swung it playfully behind her, and promptly sliced something large and hairy off.

The giant spider that had been reaching for her screamed inhumanely at the painful loss of one of its joints. Canna whirled around, and when she saw what was happening, her eyes widened and she took a step back.

Then she picked up the hairy limb on the ground and held it out stump-first to the beast. Black blood was oozing from its end. "You dropped something. Hmm … you're not very pretty, are you, Spider sir?"

With another angry shriek, the massive monster lunged at her, quite confident in its ability to rip her to pieces.

**Please don't dwell on any confusion you currently harbour. All will be explained within time.**

**In the meantime, review?**


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

THE TENTH CHAPTER:

The long, pale strands swamped the trees, the web clinging to anything it could grasp – the ground, a few nearby boulders, but mostly the branches and trunks of the trees. It all gave it a cheerful feeling of suffocation, and just looking around made Annabeth imagine the silky, sticky bounds wrapped around her tighten. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing and evaluate the situation.

All four of them – Annabeth, Nico, Ryan, and Will – had been captured by three giant killer spiders. From what she had determined through her haze of complete terror during her own kidnapping, the first spider had been assigned the job of picking them off, one by one, and delivering them to the second spider, who'd bound them and brought them to the web, which was guarded by the third spider. Annabeth had been the latest addition to the party, and was trying not to look too hard at their massive pincers, long hairy scuttling legs, and beady, shiny multiple eyes.

She shuddered even thinking about not thinking about it.

After she'd been tied up and sufficiently bound (she'd stopped struggling, flailing, and panicking when one of them took a threatening snap at her arm), the first and second spider had bounded off into the woods, abnormally fast. They were gone in less than a second, with the third spider – a huge, particularly hairy one with dark blue on its back – remaining to stand guard over them. The same spider was there right now, about ten feet above their heads, watching them. Annabeth fancied that it was eyeing them rather hungrily, and was merely waiting to dine out of respect – or maybe fear – for its companions.

Oh Zeus, how she hated spiders. Especially the intelligent, monstrous ones.

The only one that was left was Canna, and in her current state Annabeth doubted she would do anything but run around in circles shrieking before passing out right into the spider's grasp.

And if Canna was out – which she probably would be – there would be little to stop the spiders from beginning their feast. In other words, they were dead. Their mission would be over before they'd even properly started. And all because Circe wanted the crazy girl to eat a bar of chocolate.

Annabeth mentally began a tirade against Circe. If it weren't for the third spider's unnatural love for dead silence, she would've said it aloud.

Will had tried at one point to call for help. The third spider had leapt before him in an instant, shoving his ugly face in his and letting out a feral, hissy snarl, glaring at him with those shiny eyes for a few moments before returning to his original position.

Will had tried to put on a brave face, but it wasn't hard to tell that he was trying desperately not to pee his pants. Afterwards, everyone tried to keep as quiet as they could.

Annabeth opened her eyes. Ryan had already seemed to given up and was staring at the sky as if to say, "When we die, please let my death be quick." Will _still_ looked like he was trying to control his bladder. Nico had been knocked unconscious, apparently, because he was limp and unmoving, and had a large purple bruise on the top of his head. If only he was conscious; he might've been able to shadow-travel them out of this mess.

Dread and fear crept into her stomach. She didn't want to die like this. She wished Percy were here. He was the kind of guy who could be thrown into almost any life-or-death situation and still come out intact. She'd always been a little jealous of his luck, but now the only people she was just of were the rest of the campers of Half-Blood, seeing as they currently had Percy with them and she didn't.

Although … now that Annabeth thought about it … it had been a long time since the third and second spider came back. At least twenty minutes, she figured. Was this normal? It frustrated her, and though she didn't want to be around these things any longer than necessary, she found herself wishing she'd been kidnapped earlier. Then she would've at least been able to judge what normal time was between kidnappings accurately.

The spider above her shifted a little, the first time it had since it had spat a mouthful of spit in Will's face. She imagined its eyes flickering back from the trees to them, the demigods. Annabeth held her breath until it had gone absolutely still again; then she exhaled, slowly.

There was no use in trying to ask Ryan or Will how long it took for the spiders to take out another victim. She felt that if the spider came up to her and did what it had done to Will, she really might pee her pants.

Above her, she nearly flinched when the spider's pinchers began to come together, clacking over and over again. _clack-clack-clack-clack_. Like it was calling to something. It was an extremely disturbing noise and she immediately wished it would stop.

Ugh. Annabeth _hated_ spiders.

And that's when Canna decided to stumble right into the small clearing, sword in hand.

The spider hissed – in surprise, Annabeth imagined – as Canna immediately tripped over a tree root and fell flat on her face. Painfully picked herself up.

"That's not funny!" she snapped to no one in particular. "Do you think it's funny to pull out a rope and trip someone as they go past? Why … that's like something MEANIE MOMMY WOULD DO!"

So, Canna was still … abnormal. Personally, Annabeth was simply surprised she had gotten past the first two spiders.

She looked at Ryan and Will, both whom looked just as shocked as she felt.

The third spider turned and snarled at its prisoners, as if warning them to stay put – and then, in a single bound, it had leapt off the web and landed right in front of Canna, spitting venom, its departure leaving the silk strands shaking.

Canna stared into its eight shiny black eyes as if fascinated. "You're not very pretty, are you?"

Will cried out and Annabeth couldn't suppress a shriek when the spider lunged forward, snapping for her head. And Canna didn't dodge, block it, or try running away. Instead, she collapsed bonelessly onto the ground with a little, "Ow!" right before the giant bug's pincers snapped together, missing her by a hair.

"Hey, you could've killed me!" For a moment, she sounded coherent, and Annabeth wondered. But a second later her hopes of her sister's recovery vanished when the thirteen-year-old screamed, "YOU MUST BE IN LEAGUE WITH MOMMY! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ATTEMPTED ASASSINATIONS! DIE!" and thrust her sword upwards. The Celestial Bronze pierced through its chin, went through its head, and stuck out the other side, surely destroying whatever brain it had.

And yet miraculously, the spider monster did not die. With a snarl, it ripped its head free and batted at Canna, sending both her and her sword flying through the air.

"YAAAAH! I'm flying! This is amazing!"

She was forced to shut her mouth when she crashed into the trees and bushes and disappeared from view.

The spider rushed forward ….

… and the sword, which had still been spinning in the air, came down and sunk into his abdomen with a sickening squelch.

The spider stopped, let out a weird-sounding scream, and then thrashed as if trying to claw at its back – futile, because spider legs are not, and will never be, anywhere near that flexible. A few more moments of screaming and thrashing, and finally it exploded in dust.

The sword clattered to the ground.

"Canna?" Annabeth called out uncertainly.

For a second, there wasn't a reply. But a second later, a snore rose up from the trees.

Will looked just plain bewildered, but Annabeth and Ryan sighed and groaned in unison.

"Of course," said Ryan. "She defeats the giant monster while she's – what should we call this state?"

"Drunk?" suggested Annabeth.

"That works. So she defeats the giant monster while she's drunk on Maenad juice, but falls asleep on her own before bothering to cut us free?"

"I don't get it," said Will blankly.

"The spiders had already captured you when Canna went insane," said Annabeth. "We're explain things if we get out of here."

"Not a problem," said Nico.

They turned to look at him. The son was Hades was standing in the pool of sulphur, scowling and rubbing his head.

They looked at the bonds he'd been held by. They were still there, but they were slack and empty.

"I thought you were unconscious," said Will.

"I woke up, and shadow-travelled." He frowned in Canna's presumed direction. "She's very loud."

He picked up Canna's sword, went over to the web, and began hacking away.

"We'd better get going," said Annabeth. "We need to find our stuff and after everything that's happened tonight, I don't think it's too safe in these woods anymore."

"Agreed," Will said.

"BUT I WANT TO STAY!" Canna randomly bounded out of the trees and tackled Annabeth so hard both girls fell to the ground. "ANNIE-BETHANY! Don't make us go! It's so pretty here! Look at all the snow! I DON'T WANT TO GO!"

"It's almost July. There is no snow here, Canna."

Canna smiled, straightened into a sitting position, and patted Annabeth on the head affectionately. "You're so funny, Annie."

_Thud_.

A second later, Canna's crazed gray eyes rolled to the back of her head and she hit the grass, unconscious.

Ryan stood behind her, lower his arm. "She saved out lives and all, but I don't think it's particularly safe for her to stay conscious for now. Any objections?"

There were none.

**A short chapter by this story's standards ….**

**Oh well.**

**In the next chapter, things will be back to first-person narrative!**

**Review in the mean time?**


End file.
